-30 


THE  SHIELD  OF  THE 


I 

mmm 


A    NOVEL. 
BY 


Constance  Goddard  Du  6015 


AUTHOR      OF 


"MARTHA  COREY," 


"A  MODERN  PAGAN"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK. 

THE  MERRIAM  COA\PANV 
67  FIFTH  AVE. 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 

BY   CONSTANCK   GODDAHI)   DlTBolS. 


TYPOGRAPHY  ISY  C.  J.  PETEKS  &  SON, 
BOSTON. 


TO    THE    GLORIOUS    MEMORY    OP 

Jeanne   Bare 

SAINT  AND  MARTYR 

THIS    BOOK    IS    DEDICATED    WITH    LOVE 
AND    REVERENCE. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.    AT  THE  INN 5 

II.     THE  VILLAGE  FESTIVAL 18 

III.  IN  THE  COTTAGE 41 

IV.  THE  SONG  OF  JEANNE  DARC 49 

V.     FAREWELL  TO  DOMREMY 68 

VI.     JEANNE  DARC  LIVES 79 

VII.     FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION 100 

VIII.     KECOGNITION 113 

IX.     BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE 130 

X.     REBELLIOUS  LOVE 148 

XI.     A  MESSAGE     .     .     .    '. 164 

XII.     THE  ARCHIVES  OF  ORLEANS 186 

XIII.  LAMIA 199 

XIV.  A  DEED  OF  SALE 218 

XV.     THE  SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES 229 

XVI.     THE  SWORD  FALLS 240 

XVII.     A  PROMISE 252 

XVIII.    THE  SIENA  MANUSCRIPT 271 

XIX.     THE  LADY  OF  BEAUTE 277 

XX.     DISCOVERY 289 

XXI.     THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  BASOCHE 308 

XXII.     REHABILITATION 329 

APPENDIX   .                                               331 


THE 


SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   I. 


AT   THE  INN. 


the  close  of  a  May  day  in  the 

1434,  a  stranger  applied  for  shelter 
at  the  miserable  inn  which  was  the 
sole  refuge  for  the  traveller  whose 
course  led  him  among  the  outlying 
villages  on  the  borders  of  Lorraine.  A  swinging 
board  to  which  a  bush  was  attached  announced  the 
character  of  the  place  ;  and  Jean  Ribaut  boasted  that 
no  one  between  Greux  and  Vaucouleurs  gave  better 
accommodation,  lack  of  competition  rendering  the 
statement  impregnable. 

The  young  man  who  was  driven  by  the  fall  of  night 
to  make  proof  of  his  hospitality  was  a  soldier,  and 
inured  to  hardship  ;  and  he  gave  more  thought  to 
the  feeding  and  stabling  of  his  horse,  a  fine  Arabian, 
than  to  his  own  prospective  comfort.  He  followed 


6  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  sleepy  stable-boy  to  the  stalls,  where  he  helped 
to  fill  the  manger  with  stubbly  hay  and  the  measure 
with  chaffy  oats,  grumbling  at  the  quality  of  the 
fodder,  and  swearing  a  few  Greek  oaths,  which  lost 
their  energy  of  vituperation  when  pronounced  by 
a  mouth  modelled  like  that  of  Phoebus.  Robin,  the 
hostler,  stared  to  see  the  stranger  groom  his  horse, 
wash  its  hoofs,  and  comb  its  mane,  taking  leave  of 
his  favorite  at  last  with  a  caress  to  which  the  animal 
responded  by  fondling  its  owner's  neck  with  a  nose 
lifted  for  the  moment  from  its  oats. 

"  The  beast  and  you  are  on  good  terms,  I  see,"  said 
Robin ;  "  I  marvel  you  can  take  the  pains  you  do  after 
a  day's  journey.  My  bones  ache  so  at  even  that  I  fling 
down  the  fodder,  and  let  well  enough  go  unbettered. 
The  creatures  fare  no  worse  than  I  if  they  have  water 
and  a  bite  to  stay  their  stomachs.  My  master  keeps 
me  on  the  "jump  from  morn  to  night.  'Tis  Robin  here, 
and  Robin  there,  all  the  time.  And  now  the  May 
festival  at  Domre'my  fills  our  house  from  attic  to  cellar. 
Master  Jean  de  Metz  comes  from  Vaucouleurs,  as 
usual ;  and  a  great  lord,  who  is  stopping  there  on  king's 
business,  is  coming  this  time,  they  say.  All  we  have 
is  bespoke.  You  will  be  lucky  to  get  a  corner  to 
yourself,  Master." 

"  What  is  the  occasion  of  the  festival  you  mention  ?  " 
asked  the  young  man. 


AT   THE   INN.  7 

"It  used  to  be  the  habit  here  to  keep  the  Feast  of 
the  Fountains,"  was  the  answer.  "  Now  that  is 
changed.  There  is  no  more  dancing  and  merry 
making.  Master  Jean  de  Metz  wants  us  all  to  be 
sad-faced,  and  go  about  as  if  at  a  funeral.  They  are 
to  keep  the  vigil  to-night  in  the  convent  on  the  hill ; 
and  to-morrow  both  churches  will  be  decked  in  black, 
and  there  will  be  preaching  and  praying,  and  a  pro 
cession,  and  Latin  hymns ;  and  people  will  come  from 
far  and  near.  This  nobleman  from  the  Court  has 
ordered  the  best  our  house  contains,  and  Mistress 
for  two  days  has  been  as  restless  as  a  nesting  hen 
when  her  brood  is  broken  up.  Master,  too,  gives  a 
dozen  orders  in  one  breath :  first  a  pig  must  be  slain ; 
then  he  is  not  sure  but  the  great  man  would  rather  dine 
on  calf's  meat,  but  Mistress  says  the  heifer  must  be 
raised  for  breeding,  and  Josson  must  be  persuaded  to 
give  us  a  sheep.  So  the  saints  alone  can  guide  us." 

"But  what  is  the  object  of  the  ceremony?"  in 
quired  the  young  man,  as  he  left  the  stable  followed 
by  Robin's  shuffling  steps.  He  waited  for  the  answer 
while  the  hostler  secured  the  door  with  a  twisted 
withe,  and  a  large  stone  which  he  rolled  against  the 
lower  panel  for  greater  security  in  the  evident  be 
lief  that  no  intruder  would  care  to  remove  the 
weight  that  set  him  groaning. 

"  To-morrow   is   the    day   three   years   since    Jeanne 


8  THE   SHIELD   OF  THE  FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

Dare l  perished  at  the  stake,"  he  said.  "  She  lived  in 
the  village  yonder  across  the  brook.  Many  go  now  to 
look  at  the  house.  They  call  her  a  witch  and  a  heretic ; 
but  our  priest  says  she  is  a  saint,  and  has  seejn  her 
in  visions  since  she  died.  You  must  ask  him  about 
it.  He  used  to  work  cheek  by  jowl  with  me  in  the 
hayfield,  when  he  came  from  Toul,  where  he  lived,  to 
visit  his  uncle  who  was  cobbler  in  Domre'my.  He  had 
no  more  thought  of  being  a  priest  than  I  had.  I 
could  tell  some  tales  of  him ;  but  no  matter.  He  was 
a  good  lad  in  the  main,  and  sick  with  love  for  Jeanne 
Dare.  He  asked  her  to  wed,  and  she  said  no.  She 
never  cared  for  aught  but  praying  and  church-going, 
for  all  she  was  friendly  to  every  one.  I  mind  how 
she  rubbed  my  mother's  leg  when  it  swelled  past  all 
belief  with  the  dropsy ;  and  she  cured  it  by  prayer,  or 
by  rubbing,  or  by  the  favor  of  the  Virgin.  Later  on 
the  duke  himself  sent  for  her  to  cure  him.  All  say 
she  could  do  miracles;  though  Isabel  Rome'e,  she  that 
is  now  Isabel  du  Lis,  for  they  are  all  nobles,  if  you 
will  believe  it,  and  I  must  scrape  and  bow  when  I 
meet  Jean  and  Pierre  who  are  no  better  born  than 
I — a  strange  thing  is  this  gift  of  a  pedigree  when 

1  The  spelling  of  the  name  of  France's  heroine  used  throughout 
this  book  has  been  adopted,  both  because  it  was  that  in  use  in  her 
day,  when  the  apostrophe  was  unknown,  and  also  in  protest  against  the 
customary  English  translation  of  the  preposition,  which  is  as  inexcus 
able  in  this  case  as  it  would  be  in  the  following  names :  Madame  of  Stael, 
the  Duke  of  Aumale,  etc. 


AT   THE   INN.  9 

the  king  sends  it  in  a  parchment  a  yard  long — well, 
Isabel  Rome'e,  or  du  Lis,  the  mother  of  Jeanne,  says 
she  never  did  a  miracle,  for  which  they  accuse  her 
of  witchcraft,  but  that  she  is  a  saint,  and  her  prayers 
were  accepted  of  God." 

"You  were  going  to  tell  of  the  priest's  love  for 
Jeanne,"  suggested  the  young  man. 

"  Oh,  ay,  Father  Ambrose ;  his  name  then  was 
Pierre.  He  asked  Jeanne  to  wed;  and  when  her 
parents  agreed,  and  she  still  refused,  he  haled  her 
to  Toul  before  the  Official,  and  asked  her  in  open 
court  if  she  had  not  once  promised  to  wed  him, 
and  if  the  judges  should  not  force  her  to  do  as  she 
had  said.  Jeanne  stood  up  and  answered  him  in  her 
own  defense ;  and  they  say  it  was  a  marvellous  thing 
to  hear  her.  The  Official  gave  sentence  iu  her  favor, 
and  Pierre  came  home  in  shame  without  a  wife. 
They  say  he  now  does  penance  for  the  injury  he 
thought  to  do  her.  He  has  been  for  three  years  in 
the  convent,  and  is  now  ordained,  and  may  shrive 
and  bury,  and  say  masses ;  and  yet  he  is  no  older 
than  I,  and  was  no  better  instructed  when  Jeanne 
died.  Since  then  he  has  been  like  one  transformed." 

Robin's  words  came  to  an  end  only  when  he  parted 
with  the  guest  at  the  inn  door,  where  he  consigned 
him  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  host. 

Jean  Ribaut  gave  him  the  end  of  a  table,  and  set 


10  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

a  bowl  of  porridge  before  him ;  but  the  innkeeper 
arid  his  wife  were  so  absorbed  in  anxiety  for  the 
morrow,  and  in  making  preparation  for  the  distin 
guished  guest  who  was  expected,  that  they  had  little 
thought  to  give  to  the  young  soldier  who  rode  unat 
tended,  and  whose  clothes,  though  rich,  were  of  a 
strange  fashion,  while  his  accent  was  that  of  a  for 
eigner. 

In  answer  to  the  questions  which  Marianne  Ribaut 
felt  it  her  duty  to  ask  of  every  new-comer  as  to  his 
name,  home,  station,  and  business,  it  was  discovered 
that  the  stranger  was  a  lord  of  Lorraine,  and  a  native 
of  Metz,  Sire  Robert  des  Armoises  by  name ;  that  he 
had  been  educated  by  an  uncle  in  the  city  of  Con 
stantinople,  and  that  he  was  now  on  his  way  to  his 
paternal  home  to  enter  upon  his  inheritance,  which 
consisted  of  an  old  homestead  within  the  city  walls, 
and  a  patrimony  of  lands  and  estates  in  Lorraine 
and  France. 

Marianne  was  a  respecter  of  persons,  but  she  was 
also  of  a  skeptical  mind.  These  claims  to  wealth 
and  rank  did  not  accord  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
stranger's  appearance.  She  set  them  down  to  the 
credit  of  a  traveller's  imagination,  ordered  the  slat 
ternly  maid-servant  to  make  up  a  bed  for  the  gentle 
man  in  the  south-east  corner  of  the  attic  room,  already 
bespoken  for  three  others,  and  then  left  him  with- 


AT   THE   INN.  11 

out  further  concern.  Jean  Ribaut,  finding  that  the 
stranger  ordered  the  best  wine,  and  drank  it  without 
criticism,  asking  no  questions,  was  disposed  to  be 
more  friendly. 

He  was  a  stout  man,  with  a  rubicund  face  ;  and  if 
his  habitual  expression  of  stolid  resignation  was  not 
that  which  Nature  had  designed  to  accompany  the 
cast  of  his  features,  it  was  because  fate,  in  the  shape 
of  his  wife,  had  frustrated  the  happier  possibilities  of 
his  destiny.  When  the  door  closed  upon  Marianne's 
anxious  activities,  a  lurking  smile  crept  into  the 
corners  of  the  innkeeper's  loose  lips ;  his  thumbs 
sought  the  folds  of  his  belt,  allowing  his  hands  to 
rest  upon  his  portly  hips  ;  his  head  was  thrown 
back,  and  his  small  eyes  twinkled  with  shrewd  obser 
vation.  Sometimes  then  he  would  utter  a  ponderous 
witticism,  matured  by  a  week's  deliberation.  He 
would  nod  approval  of  his  guests'  remarks,  and  act 
as  the  master  of  ceremonies  in  introducing  and  ex 
plaining  the  meaning  of  each  to  the  other,  often  con 
fusing  rather  than  elucidating  the  result. 

Des  Armoises,  rising  from  his  miserable  meal,  con 
fronted  his  host  thus  established  in  front  of  the  fire ; 
and  he,  in  turn,  surveyed  his  guest  with  a  paternal 
glance,  while  he  chalked  the  score  upon  the  wall, 
inadvertently  adding  double  to  the  price  of  the  sour 
wine,  which  had  been  left  unfinished. 


12  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"Tell  me,  mine  host,"  said  Des  Armoises,  "some 
thing  more  concerning  the  wonderful  Maid  of  France, 
who  has  honored  your  village  by  giving  it  a  world 
wide  fame.  I  heard  of  her  in  the  East ;  and  I  fancied 
her  to  be  a  doughty  Amazon,  riding  to  victory  at  the 
head  of  the  armies  of  France,  wrapped  about  with  a 
religious  veneration  like  that  which  invests  our  Pa- 
nagia.  Little  by  little,  rumors  of  a  sad  and  tragic 
end  have  reached  me ;  but  how  is  it  possible  that 
the  Saviour  of  France  should  perish  at  the  stake 
as  a  witch  and  a  heretic?  Where  were  her  armies? 
Where  was  the  king  ?  Was  there  a  general  rout  ? 
It  cannot  be,  unless  rumor  lies;  for  every  report  was 
of  some  new  victory  for  the  French." 

Jean  Ribaut  shuffled  his  feet  uneasily  upon  the  floor, 
and  rubbed  his  hands  together  nervously;  for  the 
necessity  of  formulating  a  definite  account  of  events 
concerning  which  his  knowledge  was  vague  and  lim 
ited,  made  it  more  than  ever  difficult  for  him  to 
marshal  his  thoughts  into  speech. 

"You  will  hear  all  about  it  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  to  talk  of  nothing  else.  Jean  de  Metz, 
who  gave  the  money  for  Jacques's  funeral,  is  to  pay 
all  the  expense  of  this." 

"  And  a  hole  it  will  make  in  his  pocket,"  said  an 
old  shepherd  who  sat  upon  an  inverted  cask  near  the 
fire.  He  was  dressed  in  a  loose  shirt,  rusty  leathern 


AT   THE  INN.  13 

small-clothes,  and  cloth  gaiters,  and  wore  a  sheep 
skin  mantle  buckled  across  his  shoulders.  He  sipped 
a  mug  of  home-brewed  beer,  and  smacked  his  lips 
audibly  at  each  draught. 

"  Who  was  this  Jacques  ?  "  asked  Des  Armoises. 

"  Jacques  Dare  was  the  eldest  son  of  Isabel 
Rome'e  and  of  the  elder  Jacques  Dare,  his  father," 
said  an  old  woman  who  made  one  of  the  circle  about 
the  fire,  straightening  herself  as  she  spoke  with  the 
air  of  confident  authority.  "  He  was  the  brother  of 
Jeanne,  and  he  died  as  you  may  say  of  grief ;  for 
he  took  to  his  bed  when  he  heard  the  news  of  the 
burning,  and  he  never  held  up  his  head  again. 
There  are  only  two  left  now,  Petit- Jean  and  Pierre- 
lot.  There  was  another  girl,  Catherine ;  but  they  say 
she  was  drowned  last  Michaelmas  Day  at  Nancy, 
where  she  lived  as  servant  to  the  duchess.  Isabel 
Rome'e  has  had  a  deal  of  grief;  but  what  is  sent 
must  be  borne.  Who  knows  that  better  than  I,  who 
have  lost  ten  children  where  she  has  lost  three  ? " 

She  looked  about  her  with  an  air  of  grim  satisfac 
tion  in  the  superiority  of  her  experience. 

"  Thou  didst  never  lose  one  at  the  stake,  Mother 
Suzette,"  ventured  a  by-stander. 

"  Did  not  the  Burgundians  burn  the  roof  above 
my  head  six  years  ago  next  Lady's  Day,  when  my 
grandson,  a  babe,  perished  in  the  flames  ?  Go  to, 


14  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Andre* ;  fire  is  fire,  and  some  day,  if  not  on  this 
earth,  thou  shalt  feel  it." 

A  laugh  at  Andrews  expense  went  round  the 
circle. 

"Will  no  one  tell  me  how  Jeanne  Dare  came  to 
such  a  cruel  fate  ? "  asked  Des  Armoises,  surveying 
the  faces  before  him. 

The  old  shepherd  looked  up,  and  replied :  "  'Tis 
naught  else  to  tell.  The  girl  Jeanne  died  at  Rouen 
by  being  burned  to  death.  Many  a  time  has  she 
kept  her  cows  and  sheep  side  by  side  with  mine ; 
and  I  never  thought  she  would  end  so,  but  rather 
she  than  I.  I  am  a  quiet,  humble  man,  and  ask 
naught  of  kings  and  judges  but  to  be  let  alone  in 
my  corner  of  the  world,  where  I  fear  God  and  shun 
the  devil.  If  Jeanne  had  been  as  well  content  with 
her  place,  and  had  obeyed  her  parents,  who  said 
'  Stay,'  instead  of  the  voice  that  bade  '  Go,'  she  would 
never  have  suffered  the  pangs  of  judgment." 

"  Fie  upon  thee  for  thy  answer ! "  cried  Suzette. 
"  If  the  worthy  Jean  de  Metz  had  heard  it,  thy 
shoulders  would  have  felt  his  staff.  It  was  an  angel 
who  told  Jeanne  to  go  and  save  the  King  of  France ; 
and  go  she  must,  spite  of  father  or  mother.  Right 
sore  she  wept  for  it.  You  know  that,  Josson,  as 
well  as  I.  But  there  are  some  men  who  will  hide 
in  a  corner  when  the  angel  Gabriel  blows  his  horn, 


AT   THE   INN.  15 

and  will  stop  their  ears  pretending  not  to  hear 
him.  Much  good  it  will  do  them." 

Josson  set  down  his  mug  bottom  side  up.  "  There 
are  some  women  whose  tongues  are  worse  than  the 
day  of  judgment,"  he  said,  rising  slowly  to  his  feet, 
and  preparing  to  leave  the  room. 

The  landlord  checked  his  progress  by  a  gesture 
which  the  shepherd  feigned  to  overlook,  having  visions 
of  certain  rudely  chalked  marks  upon  the  wall  where 
Jean  Ribaut  kept  his  score. 

"  Art  going  on  the  hill  ?  "  asked  Ribaut,  while  Jos- 
son  fingered  the  latch.  Receiving  an  affirmative  reply, 
he  added,  "  if  the  gentleman  from  Metz  is  within 
reach,  ask  him  to  come  to  the  inn  and  have  speech 
with  a  noble  soldier  who  wishes  to  hear  of  Jeanne 
Dare  and  the  wars."  Then,  as  the  wearer  of  the 
sheepskin  mantle  slipped  into  the  darkness,  the  land 
lord  added,  "  He  can  tell  more  than  priest  or  clerk  ; 
he  is  the  one  you  should  inquire  of." 

"  Who  is  this  townsman  of  mine  ? "  cried  Des 
Armoises.  "  I  will  gladly  make  his  acquaintance." 

Again  Ribaut  found  himself  at  a  loss  for  an  imme 
diate  reply.  Suzette,  whose  strength  lay  in  her  tongue, 
came  to  his  relief.  "He  is  the  best  man  one  can  meet 
with  in  a  summer's  day,"  she  said  with  energy.  "  He 
worshipped  the  Maid  of  Domre'my  as  one  worships  the 
Virgin;  and  he  bears  all  the  expense  of  the  festival 


16  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

to-morrow,  as  he  did  for  Jacques's  funeral.  Jeanne, 
poor  soul,  had  no  funeral.  They  scattered  her  ashes 
upon  the  river." 

"  That  is  a  lie  of  the  English  hounds,"  said  Mari 
anne,  who  entered  with  a  long  poker  in  her  hand 
with  which  she  prepared  to  extinguish  the  fire  upon 
the  hearth  by  scattering  the  brands  and  covering  them 
with  ashes.  "  I  have  heard  many  say  that  the  flames 
did  her  no  hurt,  for  she  flew  out  of  them  to  heaven 
in  the  shape  of  a  dove.  Only  her  heart  was  found ; 
and  that  they  could  neither  burn  nor  bury." 

Marianne's  entrance  with  the  poker  was  a  signal 
which  the  assembled  company  did  not  dare  to  dis 
regard.  It  warned  them  of  the  hour  when  transient 
visitors  were  to  betake  themselves  homeward,  and  the 
guests  of  the  house  were  expected  to  seek  their  beds. 
Suzette  rose  reluctantly,  and  drew  her  cloak  about  her. 

"  Some  folks  are  wise  in  their  own  conceits,  and  some 
are  wise  by  right  of  their  station,"  she  said.  "I  am 
a  poor  body  that  only  knows  what  I  am  told  by  those 
who  have  reason  to  speak  the  truth.  If  the  gentle 
man  wants  to  get  at  the  root  of  all  these  matters  he 
should  ask  Marianne  Ribaut;  or  if  he  chooses  to  wait 
till  to-morrow  he  will  hear  the  whole  history  of  Jeanne 
Dare  told  by  Jean  de  Metz,  her  brothers,  Father  Am 
brose,  and  Father  Fulbert.  It  might  be  best  for  him 
to  wait  and  hear  them.'' 


AT  THE   INN.  17 

"What  a  tongue  that  woman  has!"  cried  Marianne, 
flinging  the  bar  into  its  socket  with  unnecessary  energy 
as  the  last  guest  departed.  Then  she  lit  a  rushlight, 
and  prepared  to  show  Des  Armoises  to  his  attic,  inform 
ing  him,  in  reply  to  his  questions,  that  Jean  de  Metz 
was  a  young  bourgeois  living  in  the  king's  service  at 
Vaucouleurs,  and  it  was  he  who  had  first  set  Jeanne 
on  her  way  to  the  wars,  taking  her  under  his  protec 
tion,  and  vowing  his  sword  to  her  defense. 

"  Josson  will  not  find  him  to-night,  you  may  be  sure," 
said  Marianne,  "  for  he  will  be  keeping  vigil  and  fast 
with  the  brothers  at  the  convent.  To-morrow  you  will 
see  him.  He  will  lead  the  procession.  It  is  he  who 
has  contrived  everything.  Isabel  and  Jacques  agree  to 
everything  he  says  and  does.  It  will  be  a  great  day  for 
Domre'my." 

She  left  her  guest  with  a  good-night,  taking  -the  can 
dle  with  her.  Des  Armoises  flung  himself  upon  his 
creaking  pallet  in  a  corner  of  the  attic,  as  remote  as 
possible  from  his  neighbors,  three  snoring  carriers 
whose  pack  mules  he  had  noticed  in  the  stable;  and 
he  slept  with  the  self-abandonment  of  youth. 


18  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUIl-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL. 


morning  dawned  warm  and  fair, 
and  the  neighboring  villages  of  Dom- 
re*my  and  Greux  were  early  astir  in 
preparation  for  the  event  of  the  day. 
The  interest  of  all  was  centered  up 
on  a  small  thatched  cottage  a  stone's  throw  from  the 
church,  which  formed  the  focus  for  the  gathering. 

A  carved  stone  escutcheon,  contrasting  by  the  fresh 
ness  of  its  color  with  the  time-stained  walls  of  the  little 
house,  bore  the  arms  which  had  been  given  to  the  fam 
ily  of  Dare,  now  Du  Lis,  —  a  drawn  sword  surmounted 
with  a  crown,  with  a  fleur-de-lis  on  either  side.  Visi 
tors  to  the  village  pointed  this  out,  and  remarked  that 
the  same  design  was  carved  upon  the  tombstone  which 
bore  the  name  of  Jacques  Dare  ;  and  it  was  also  to  be 
seen  upon  a  memorial  tablet  in  the  church  where  the  vir 
tues  and  fame  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  were  recorded. 
"  And  where  is  the  grave  of  the  other  sister  of  whom 
I  heard  last  night?"  inquired  Des  Armoises. 

Marianne  Ribaut  and  Robin,  urged  equally  by  mo- 


THE  VILLAGE  FESTIVAL.  19 

tives  of  curiosity  and  the  desire  to  impart  information, 
were  his  companions ;  but  neither  replied  to  this  ques 
tion  with  accustomed  readiness  of  speech. 

"She  is  not  buried  here;  none  knows  where  she 
lies,"  said  Marianne. 

Robin  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  distorted  his  face 
with  a  grimace.  "None  knows  but  there  may  be  a 
scandal  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  he  said  with  a  hoarse  at 
tempt  at  a  whisper  in  Robert's  ear.  "  She  is  gone  ;  that 
we  know.  Her  brother  Jean  says  she  was  drowned  in 
the  Meuse.  They  searched,  and  the  body  was  not  re 
covered.  Those  who  call  Jeanne  a  witch  say  that  the 
devil  flew  away  with  Catherine.  But  in  my  opinion 
the  devil  may  have  come  in  the  shape  of  a  man." 

"  Hold  thy  tongue,  Robin,"  cried  Marianne.  "  Thou 
must  ever  be  chattering  of  things  above  thy  intellect. 
None  are  so  foolish  as  those  who  think  they  know  more 
than  their  neighbors." 

"  Father  Ambrose  knows  more  than  I,  yet  he  will 
not  tell,"  said  Robin.  "I  know  that  man  as  I  do  my 
self.  Have  I  not  helped  him  steal  the  neighbors' 
ducks'  eggs,  and  put  smooth  stones  in  their  place  ?  but 
it  will  not  do  to  tell  that  and  more  now  he's  a  priest 
and  I  but  an  hostler.  But  because  of  our  youthful 
fellowship  we  are  like  brothers  for  knowledge  of  each 
other's  faces.  Say  '  Catherine  '  to  Ambrose,  and  see  if 
he  will  not  blush." 


20  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE-FLEUIi-DE-LIS. 

"  Chattering  fool !  what  must  thou  be  after?"  cried 
Marianne  in  amazement.  "  Those  who  slander  a  priest 
must  fear  halter  and  flame." 

"  I  mean  naught  against  him,"  Robin  hastened  to  say; 
"only  that  i-f  any  one  has  reason  to  be  sure  whether 
Catherine  is  living  or  dead,  it  must  be  that  he  guesses 
the  secret." 

"  This  is  no  place  to  talk  of  such  things,"  said  Mari 
anne.  "When  we  are  at  home,  I  will  wish  to  hear  all 
that  thou  canst  tell." 

Robin  shook  his  head,  and  thrust  his  tongue  into  his 
cheek.  ^  I  have  now  said  more  than  is  for  my  good," 
he  replied. 

Marianne  drew  her  brows  together  in  angry  perplex 
ity,  wondering  if  the  hostler's  chatter  had  any  other 
cause  than  his  jealousy  of  his  old  comrade's  rise  in  sta 
tion.  At  this  moment  the  side  door  of  the  church 
opened,  and  shut  again  behind  two  men  who  left  it  to 
cross  the  greensward  to  the  cottage. 

"  Yonder  is  Jean  de  Metz,  and  Father  Ambrose  with 
him,"  cried  Marianne.  "  The  procession  will  now  be 
gin  to  form." 

Des  Armoises  looked  at  the  two  with  interest.  His 
fellow  townsman  was  a  young  man  with  a  sallow,  mel 
ancholy  face,  where  suffering  had  left  lines  that  gave  it 
a  look  of  age.  His  hair,  too,  was  streaked  with  gray. 
His  mouth  drooped,  and  his  look  was  fixed  and  stern. 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  21 

His  dress  was  careless ;  and  his  manner  was  that  of  one 
who  is  mastered  by  an  inward  prepossession,  and  indif 
ferent  to  the  external  world. 

His  companion  was  also  plainly  an  exceptional  char 
acter.  He  was  dressed  in  a  long  black  gown,  and  wore 
a  square  cap  that  hid  the  tonsure.  A  girdle  about  his 
waist  bore  a  crucifix,  which  now  and  then  he  lifted  and 
fingered  mechanically  as  he  talked.  His  shaven  face 
was  so  mobile  with  expression  that  it  seemed  to  betray 
his  thoughts  as  they  arose.  His  transparent  skin 
flushed  and  paled  like  that  of  a  young  girl.  His  long, 
thin  fingers  clutched  the  crucifix  convulsively,  showing 
the  tension  of  overstrung  nerves. 

Des  Armoises,  watching  him  keenly,  was  inclined 
to  believe  that  Robin's  estimate  of  his  former  friend 
might  be  in  a  measure  correct.  Father  Ambrose  was 
not  yet  far  enough  removed  from  his  youth  to  bury  its 
remorse,  or  to  hide  its  scars. 

One  of  the  priest's  bright,  uncertain  glances  met  Des 
Armoises's  look,  and  lingered  curiously  upon  him.  De 
Metz  passed  by  with  his  gaze  fixed  on  vacancy.  Both 
men  entered  the  cottage,  and  a  movement  of  expec 
tancy  was  noticeable  in  the  throng.  Soon  the  young 
priest  reappeared,  leading  the  bereaved  mother  by  the 
hand.  De  Metz  followed,  giving  a  supporting  arm  to 
Jacques  Dare,  whose  tall  form  was  bowed  beneath  the 
weight  of  his  repeated  griefs.  The  two  sons  with  their 


22  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

wives  came  next,  other  relatives  and  friends  fell  into 
line,  and  the  procession  moved  slowly  forward,  crossed 
the  churchyard,  and  paused  in  front  of  the  memorial 
tablet  where  the  name  of  Jeanne  Dare  was  inscribed. 
Here  all  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  said  a  silent 
prayer. 

At  the  steps  of  the  church  the  venerable  Father 
Fulbert  met  the  people  of  his  flock,  and  preceded 
them  up  the  aisle  to  the  chancel  as  if  leading  a  funeral 
train.  The  short  service  of  prayer  and  invocation  was 
such  as  might  be  said  over  the  grave  of  a  martyr  ;  but 
Father  Ambrose  took  his  stand  to  address  the  congrega 
tion  with  a  look  of  cheerful  animation  in  his  shining  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  mourn,  my  friends  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  it  is 
no  time  for  tears.  Jeanne  Dare  lives."  He  paused, 
for  there  was  a  stir  at  the  entrance.  A  small  com 
pany  of  horsemen,  dismounting  at  the  church  door, 
pushed  their  way  into  the  edifice  through  the  crowd 
that  fell  back  before  them,  until  they  reached  the 
foremost  place,  where  their  leader  ostentatiously  took 
his  seat. 

He  was  a  strikingly  handsome  man  of  middle  size, 
with  restless  black  eyes  which  had  a  look  of  malignity 
in  their  sidelong  glance.  He  wore  a  travelling-cloak 
of  brocaded  silk  lined  with  rich  fur,  which  reached 
below  his  knees,  and  being  open  in  front  displayed  a 
short,  plaited  surcoat  of  Flanders  cloth.  His  close- 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  23 

fitting  small-clothes  terminated  in  riding-gaiters  and 
long  pointed  shoes.  His  round  felt  hat  was  encircled 
with  a  gold  chain,  and  an  ostrich  plume  curled  above 
its  brim.  He  wore  a  dagger  in  his  belt,  and  a  short 
sword  at  his  side.  Two  of  his  attendants,  who  re 
mained  standing  at  a  respectful  distance  in  the  rear, 
were  more  heavily  armed  with  maces  and  halberds. 
The  third  was  dressed  as  a  minstrel,  and  carried  a 
guitar  swung  by  a  ribbon  over  his  shoulder. 

The  nobleman,  whose  rank  was  announced  to  the 
gaping  observers  by  the  rich  fur  lining  of  his  houppe- 
lande,  remained  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  regarding 
the  preacher  with  a  look  of  cynical  amusement;  for 
at  sight  of  the  newcomer,  Father  Ambrose  had  grasped 
the  railing  of  his  stand  to  save  himself,  as  it  seemed, 
from  falling.  The  color  deserted  his  cheeks,  and  he 
stared  with  projecting  eyes  and  parted  lips  as  if  at 
some  strange  apparition. 

The  nobleman  had  recovered  in  a  moment  from  an 
almost  equal  shock  of  surprise.  The  words  which  he 
had  heard  at  his  entrance  had  seemed  like  the  utterance 
of  the  raving  priestess  of  Delphi,  inspired  to  reveal 
strange  secrets. 

"Go  on,  good  preacher,"  he  said,  with  a  wave  of  the 
hand.  "Let  me  not  interrupt  your  discourse." 

Father  Ambrose  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead, 
where  drops  of  sweat  had  started  forth.  He  raised  his 


24  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

< 

eyes  as  if  in  silent  prayer,  and,  without  looking  again 
at  the  faces  before  him,  he  continued,  "  It  is  the  saints 
of  Paradise  who  alone  truly  live.  We  feeble  worms  of 
the  earth  crawl  through  our  allotted  time,  not  knowing 
we  are  dead  while  we  live.  Jeanne  Dare  is  in  glory. 
I  see  her  now  with  the  eye  of  faith.  St.  Michael,  with 
a  smile  more  radiant  than  the  lightning,  places  upon 
her  brow  a  celestial  diadem.  St.  Margaret  and  St. 
Catherine  on  either  side  present  her  with  a  lily,  the 
perfume  of  which  is  a  balm  for  earth's  griefs,  an 
earnest  of  immortality.  She  does  not  forget  you,  my 
friends.  She  prays  for  you  each  by  name,  loving  you 
now  as  formerly.  She  who  refused  rank  and  title  for 
herself  gave  to  her  family  a  place  among  the  nobility 
of  France.  She  who  asked  no  favor  for  herself  won 
from  the  king  perpetual  release  from  impost  for  the 
villages  of  her  native  place.  Why  should  you  grieve 
to-day  when  you  commemorate  her  passage  from  earth 
to  heaven?  She  went  with  tears  and  pain  through  a 
path  of  agony;  but  at  its  end  she  found  the  Lord 
Christ  waiting  to  receive  the  martyr  who  died  with  his 
name  upon  her  lips." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  with  a  bent  head  left  his 
place,  and  took  a  seat  in  the  stalls ;  while  the  old 
priest,  greatly  moved,  came  forward  and  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  chancel  facing  the  assembled  mul 
titude  with  a  tremulous  smile. 


THE  VILLAGE  FESTIVAL.  25 

"For  the  information  of  the  strangers  who  are  with 
us  to-day,"  he  said,  "  I  had  meant  to  tell  the  story 
of  our  Maid  of  Domremy,  who  is  now  known  as  the 
Maid  of  Orleans,  and  the  Maid  of  France.  Thus  did 
her  mission  widen  in  its  purpose.  But  in  spite  of 
my  young  colleague's  pious  exhortations,  and  the 
strength  of  his  faith  which  is  also  mine,  I  find  my 
heart  too  heavy  and  my  voice  too  full  of  tears  for 
much  speech.  You  know  the  goodness  of  her  life, 
and  have  borne  witness  to  it,  when  twice  spies  have 
been  sent  among  us  hoping  to  prove  some  evil  thing 
against  her.  Again  and  again  have  they  been  con 
founded.  Who  is  there  among  us  that  has  not  had 
evidence  of  her  piety,  charity,  and  good-will?  When 
she  had  no  gold  to  give,  she  gave  her  strength,  her 
thought,  and  assistance.  Who  ever  asked  Jeanne 
Dare  for  aid  and  asked  in  vain  ?  How  young  she 
was  when  she  left  us,  yet  how  exalted  in  religious 
attainments,  and  in  the  knowledge  and  communion 
of  that  better  world  which  my  young  colleague  has 
pictured  forth.  To  her  it  was  present  and  real. 
The  veil  that  hides  it  from  our  sin-dulled  eyes  was 
drawn  aside  for  her.  The  blessed  saints  to  whose 
voices  our  ears  are  deaf  found  hers  attentive.  She 
alone  was  chosen ;  for  she  alone  was  pure  enough  to 
hear,  devoted  enough  to  obey.  We  are  told  that  her 
enemies  still  are  mighty.  Those  who  compassed  her 


26  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

death  have  done  this  greater  evil,  — they  have  covered 
her  name  with  infamy.  The  Church,  they  say,  has 
condemned  her.  Believe  it  not,  my  people.  The 
Church  is  holy.  Its  false  professors,  who  have  shel 
tered  their  sin  under  the  name  of  religion,  shall  one 
day  be  exposed  and  confounded.  Righteousness  shall 
be  exalted.  Truth  shall  flourish  on  the  earth ;  and 
Jeanne  Dare  shall  be  reckoned  in  the  company  of 
the  saints." 

Concluding  thus,  he  repeated  a  short  prayer,  uttered 
a  benediction,  and  dismissed  the  congregation,  going 
to  Isabel  and  Jacques,  and  laying  his  hands  upon 
their  heads  for  a  special  blessing  while  they  knelt 
at  his  feet  after  the  others  had  departed. 

Jean  de  Metz,  deserted  now  by  Ambrose,  who  had 
disappeared,  led  the  way  once  more,  and  the  people 
followed  to  the  convent  of  Our  Lady  of  Bermont  on 
the  hill.  Here  the  altar  of  the  little  chapel  was  dec 
orated  with  flowers,  and  he  who  wished  might  kneel 
and  tell  his  beads  on  the  spot  where  Jeanne  Dare 
had  often  prayed.  Outside  in  the  courtyard  the  good 
brothers  had  spread  tables  of  refreshments  for  their 
visitors,  where  all  who  came  and  went  during  the  day 
might  break  a  loaf  of  wheaten  bread,  and  taste  a  mug 
of  the  honey  beer  for  which  the  convent  was  famed. 
The  green  meadow  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  edged  by 
a  border  of  dense  forest,  afforded  a  welcome  resting- 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  27 

place  when  hunger  was  satisfied;  and  the  wide  view 
of  the  valley  showed  the  shining  river  and  nestling 
hamlets,  darkened  here  and  there  by  the  shadows  of 
high-piled  summer  clouds. 

The  procession,  as  it  came  from  the  village,  was  met 
at  the  crest  of  the  hill  by  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  gray- 
robed  friars  of  the  convent,  who  chanted  a  hymn  as 
they  moved  slowly  forward.  By  common  consent,  the 
straggling  throng  came  to  a  pause  in  the  meadow, 
and  in  various  attitudes  of  repose  prepared  to  listen 
to  the  further  exercises  of  the  morning.  Jean  de 
Metz,  acting  as  master  of  ceremonies,  claimed  the 
attention  of  the  multitude  by  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"Friends,"  he  said,  with  a  kindling  glance,  "I  have 
brought  you  here  because  from  this  high  ground  you 
can  look  forth  upon  the  world  of  hill  and  vale,  river 
and  plain.  In  like  manner  I  would  have  you  make 
this  day  a  vantage-point  from  which  you  can  look 
forth  upon  futurity.  This  is  the  third  time  you  have 
with  me  commemorated  the  martyrdom  of  Jeanne 
Dare  on  the  recurrence  of  its  anniversary,  a  day  for- 
evermore  to  be  marked  in  the  calendar  in  letters  of 
blood.  For  the  third  time  I  bid  you  remember  all 
that  you  owe  to  her,  and  that  it  is  a  debt  that  must 
be  paid.  Can  you  repay  her?  Does  she  need  your 
help  ?  Yes,  I  repeat  to  you ;  a  duty  is  pressing  upon 
us.  Her  memory  must  be  cleared  from  the  obloquy 


28  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

that  rests  upon  it.  The  people  of  France  adore  her 
as  their  saviour,  their  Messiah ;  but  the  condemnation 
written  against  her  name  by  unjust  judges  has  never 
been  revoked.  In  vain  has  the  Lord  discharged  his 
thunderbolts  against  her  enemies.  One  by  one  they 
have  come  to  strange  and  torturing  deaths.  Still 
those  who  remain  are  mighty  against  her;  and  neither 
prince  nor  king,  bishop  nor  prelate,  has  appealed  to 
the  head  of  the  church  to  rehabilitate  his  righteous 
servant  in  her  integrity.  I  say  to  you  that  it  must 
be  done.  Let  each  of  you  lay  it  to  his  heart  as  his 
dearest  ambition  that  he  may  assist  in  this  holy  work. 
And  that  it  may  be  done  in  our  time,  let  each  one 
make  daily  prayers  to  the  Virgin  and  the  saints.  To 
cheer  us  now  we  will  listen  to  a  hymn  composed  by  a 
famous  poetess  in  honor  of  the  Maid.  Father  Ambrose 
has  written  it  out,  and  the  good  friars  will  sing  it  to  us." 
Upon  this,  two  of  the  brothers,  more  musically 
endowed  than  their  fellows,  struck  a  few  chords  for 
prelude  upon  a  couple  of  singularly  shaped  stringed 
instruments,  a  dicorde  and  an  archet,  and  in  quaver 
ing  tones  began  to  sing  the  following  words :  — 

Jeanne  de  bonne  heure  nee, 

Beni  soit  cil  qui  te  crea 
Pucelle  de  Dieu  ordonnee, 

En  qui  le  Saint-Esprit  rea 
Sa  grand  grace,  et  qui  ot  et  a 

Toute  largesse  de  haut  don, 
Qui  te  rendra  assez  guerdon  ? 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  29 

Merlin  et  la  Sibylle  et  Bede 

Plus  de  mille  ans  a,  la  vei'rent 
En  esprit,  et  pour  remede 

A  France  en  leurs  ecrits  la  mirent 
Et  leurs  propheties  en  firent. 

Done,  dessus  tous  les  preux  passes, 

Ceste  doit  porter  la  couronne 
Car  ses  fails  ja  montrent  assez, 

Que  plus  prouess  Dieu  lui  donne 
Qu'a  tous  ceux  de  qui  Ten  raisonne, 

Et  n'a  pas  encore  tout  parfait. 

Ne  sai  si  Paris  se  tiendra 

Ne  si  la  Pucelle  attendra  ; 
Mais  s'il  en  fait  son  ennemie 

Je  me  doute  que  dur  escremie 
Lui  rende,  si  qu'ailleurs  a  fait. 
S'il  resiste  heure  ne  demie, 

Mai  ira,  je  crois,  de  son  fait, 

Car  ens  entrera,  qui  qu'en  grogne  ? 

Par  elle  Anglais 

Seront  mis  jus  sans  relever. 
Si  est  tout  le  moins  qu' affaire  ait 

Que  destruire  I'Englescherie, 
Car  elle  a  ailleurs  plus  haut  hait ; 

C'est  que  la  foi  ne  soit  perie. 

En  Chrestiente  et  en  1'eglise 

Sera  par  elle  mis  concorde. 
Les  mescreants  dont  on  devise 

Et  les  herites  de  vie  ordre, 
Destruira,  car  ainsi  1'accorde 

Prophetic  qui  1'a  predit. 

Des  Sarrasins  fera  essart 

En  conquerant  la  Sainte  Terre  ; 
La  menra  Charles  que  Dieu  garde 

Ains  qu'il  muire  fera  tel  erre 


30  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Cilz  est  cil  qui  la  doit  conquerre. 

La  doit-elle  finer  sa  vie 
Et  1'un  et  1'autre  gloire  acquerre; 

La  sera  la  chose  assovie.1 

A  harsh,  discordant  laugh  greeted  the  conclusion  of 
the  hymn,  and  struck  the  ears  of  all  present  with  the 
effect  of  a  painful  discord.  Indignant  eyes  were 
turned  upon  the  rude  disturber  of  the  solemnity.  The 
nobleman  who  had  leisurely  followed  the  movement 
of  the  throng  had  flung  himself  upon  the  grass,  and 
lay  as  if  asleep,  with  a  corner  of  his  travelling  cloak 
flung  across  his  face.  He  now  started  up  with  the 
sardonic  laugh  which  gained  him  the  angry  notice 
of  the  assembly. 

1  For  the  benefit  of  the  curious  reader,  this  may  be  paraphrased 
as  follows :  — 

Jeanne,  born  in  a  happy  hour, 
Blessed  be  the  heavenly  power 
That  gave  thee  life ;  the  Maid  of  God, 
With  the  Spirit's  grace  endowed, 
Highest  gift  and  homage  true 
Cannot  yield  thee  all  thy  due. 

Merlin's  prophecy  with  Bede's 
A  thousand  years  thy  fame  precedes. 
They  saw  thee  with  the  spirit's  eye, 
And  made  for  France  high  prophecy. 

Above  the  heroes  of  the  past 
A  virgin  wears  the  crown  at  last. 
The  deeds  related  urge  her  claim 
To  highest  meed  of  lasting  fame ; 
Nor  can  my  verse  declare  the  whole 
Till  Time  the  finished  tale  unroll. 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  31 

"I  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  your  singing  a  hymn 
in  so  triumphant  a  strain  on  an  occasion  like  this,"  he 
said.  "You  mourn  the  burning  of  Jeanne  Dare  as  a 
relapsed  heretic,  and  at  the  same  time  you  recite  the 
prophecy  of  her  death  as  conqueror  of  the  Holy  Land. 
Are  you  able  to  reconcile  the  contradiction,  most 
erudite  and  holy  brothers?" 

Jean  de  Metz,  with  flashing  eyes,  took  the  reply 
upon  himself. 

"  The  holy  purposes  of  God  were  interfered  with 
by  the  sin  and  treachery  pf  man,"  he  said.  "With 

I  know  not  yet  will  Paris  yield, 

Nor  if  the  Maid  will  take  the  field ; 

But  sure  am  I  her  just  demands, 

If  scorned,  claim  vengeance  from  her  hands 

That  otherwhere  have  put  to  fault 

The  proudest  foe  in  rude  assault. 

The  English  fall  no  more  to  rise 

When  Jeanne  her  heavenly  watchword  cries ; 

She  drives  them  forth  with  constant  will, 

And  rids  the  Church  of  every  ill. 

All  Christendom  at  peace  will  be; 
She  tolerates  no  heresy. 
For  Holy  Church  and  Christ  the  Lord 
She  lives  as  prophecies  accord. 

The  Saracens  will  yield  to  her 

The  Holy  Land  and  Sepulchre. 

King  Charles  will  conquer  where  she  leads, 

And  share  the  fame  of  glorious  deeds. 

In  Palestine  her  life  will  end  ; 

May  Heaven  the  full  completion  send. 

This  contemporary  witness  to  the  scope  of  Jeanne  Dare's  mission  is 
interesting  as  contradicting  the  gross  errors  of  certain  later  historians 
concerning  it. 


32  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  aid  and  sympathy  of  the  King  of  France,  and  an 
undivided  people  behind  her,  Jeanne  Dare  would  have 
chased  the  English  from  the  land,  united  Christen 
dom,  and  conquered,  it  may  be,  the  Holy  Land,  as  the 
famous  poetess,  Christan  de  Pisan,  has  foretold  in  her 
verse.  Jeanne,  betrayed  and  deserted,  like  her  Mas 
ter,  dies  in  a  city  of  the  France  she  had  saved."  He 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  I  knew  her  well,"  said  the  nobleman.  "  I  was  her 
companion  in  arms  ;  and  it  chances  that  I  am  par 
ticularly  interested  in  all  that  concerns  her.  There 
fore,  being  in  Vaucouleurs,  and  hearing  of  your  annual 
solemnity,  I  came  hither  on  purpose  to  attend  it.  My 
name  is  Gilles  de  Laval.  I  am  a  marshal  of  France, 
the  Marshal  de  Retz.  You,  Jean  de  Metz,  I  have 
seen  before.  Have  you  forgotten  me  ?  " 

De  Metz  flushed  quickly.  Dislike  and  suspicion 
were  written  on  his  face  as  he  turned  and  scanned 
the  marshal  with  uneasy  curiosity.  "  I  have  heard  of 
your  lordship,"  he  said. 

"  And  nothing  good,  if  I  may  judge  by  your  tone," 
replied  the  marshal  with  a  laugh.  "  Yet  was  I  a 
faithful  comrade  of  the  Maid.  How  well  I  remember 
the  siege  of  Paris,  to  which  your  prophetess  refers 
with  discreet  reservation  as  to  the  probable  result. 
No  man,  in  fact,  could  have  foreseen  the  chance  which 
defeated  us.  On  the  day  of  the  final  assault  I  was 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  33 

close  by  the  side  of  the  Maid  as  she  shouted  the  ad 
vance  in  that  soft  woman's  voice  of  hers,  that  could 
ring  like  a  clarion  when  the  arrows  were  flying :  '  On, 
on,  my  brave  soldiers !  One  more  charge,  and  Paris 
is  ours ! '  Then  she  came  to  the  trenches,  full  of 
muddy  water,  and  stopped  aghast.  '  On,  Jeanne ! '  I 
said ;  '  why  stop  for  a  trifle  like  this  ?  '  I  knew  not 
but  that  angel  hands  might  bear  her  onwards.  But, 
independent  of  miraculous  aid,  she  had  a  wondrous 
power  of  judgment  in  that  girlish  head  of  hers ;  and, 
after  cautiously  sounding  the  water  with  the  staff  of 
her  standard,  she  bade  bring  fagots,  and  fill  the 
trenches.  Just  then  the  king's  word  came,  ordering 
the  retreat.  La  Tre'moille,  in  fact,  gave  the  com 
mand,  and  the  king  spoke  as  his  mouth-piece.  Jeanne 
obeyed,  with  tears  of  disappointment  streaming  from 
her  eyes." 

De  Metz  groaned,  and  clinched  his  hands. 

"  You  have  named  the  Judas  who  betrayed  the 
innocent  blood,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  La  Tremoille  has  fallen,"  said  the  marshal,  with 
significant  emphasis. 

De  Metz  nodded,  while  his  eyes  shone  with  triumph. 

"  The  vengeance  of  God  overtakes  her  enemies,"  he 
said.  "  Still  it  delays  its  full  accomplishment." 

"  I  have  something  further  and  more  particular  to 
relate  to  you  on  this  subject,"  said  the  marshal,  look- 


34  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

ing  about  him  furtively.  "  Here  we  are  too  public. 
Come  to  my  lodging  this  evening,  and  sup  with  me. 
I  shall  remain  in  this  neighborhood  until  the  morrow." 

De  Metz  agreed,  his  eager  interest  in  the  subject 
overcoming  his  antipathy  to  the  man. 

At  this  moment  a  new  speaker  came  forward  to 
address  the  assembly.  It  was  Friar  Martin,  the  supe 
rior  of  the  little  convent  —  a  tall,  spare  man,  with 
sunken  cheeks  and  hollow  eyes,  and  the  unhealthy 
color  of  one  who  seldom  breathed  the  out-door  air. 
He  seemed  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  smiling  May 
meadow  as  a  blinking  owl  driven  forth  unwillingly 
into  the  sunshine.  By  reason  of  his  taste  for  seclu 
sion,  the  prior  had  the  reputation  of  a  learned  man, 
to  support  which  character  cost  him  little  effort  in 
the  station  where  his  lot  was  cast. 

"  It  was  a  thousand  years  ago,  my  friends,"  he  be 
gan,  "  that  the  great  Merlin  in  his  prophecy  declared 
that  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  should  enter  into  war, 
and  that  a  virgin  should  tread  underfoot  the  bearer 
of  the  bow,  that  is  to  say,  the  English.  An  ancient 
book,  which  I  have  heard  of,  but  not  seen,  gives  it  as 
part  of  his  prophecy  that  the  virgin  will  come  from 
the  Bois  Chenu,  on  the  borders  of  Lorraine.  This 
has  been  singularly  fulfilled.  We  are  here  on  the 
borders  of  the  Bois  Chesnu,  yonder  forest,  which  shel 
ters  us  from  the  wintry  blast,  and  gives  us  the  wood 


THE   VILLAGE   FESTIVAL.  35 

which  cooks  our  food  and  warms  us  in  winter.  With 
much  trouble  I  have  obtained  for  this  occasion  a  copy 
of  a  Latin  poem  made  by  a  learned  monk  in  the  city 
of  Orleans,  at  the  time  when  the  English  besiegers 
were  at  the  gates,  and  no  one  knew  where  to  turn 
for  aid.  He  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  cell  one  evening 
with  the  words  of  Merlin's  prophecy  in  his  mind ; 
and  in  his  sleep  he  seemed  to  see  an  angel,  who  pre 
sented  him  with  a  scroll,  the  legend  of  which  he  wrote 
out  when  he  awoke,  as  I  will  now  give  it  to  you ; " 
and  the  prior  repeated  the  following  lines,  regardless 
of  the  fact  that  they  were  unintelligible  to  the  greater 
part  of  his  hearers  :  — 

"Virgo  puellares  artus  induta  virili 
Veste,  Dei  monitu,  properat  relevare  jacentem 
Liliferum  regemque ;  suos  delere  nef andos 
Hostes  praecipue  qui  nunc  sunt  Aurelianis 
Urbe  sub,  ac  illam  deterrent  obsidione 
Et  si  tanta  viris  mens  est  se  jungere  bello 
Arme  sequique  sua,  quae  nunc  parat  alma  Puella, 
Credit  et  fallaces  Anglos  succumbere  morti, 
Marte  puellari  Gallis  sternentibus  illos, 
Et  tune  finis  erit  pugnae,  tune  foedera  prisca, 
Tune  amor  et  pietas  et  caetera  jura  redibunt, 
Certabunt  de  pace  viri,  cunctique  favebunt 
Sponte  sua  regi,  qui  rex  librabit  et  ipsis 
Cunctis  justitiam  quos  pulchra  pace  fovebit, 
Et  modo  nullis  erit  Anglorum  pardiger  hostis 
Qui  se  Francorum  praesumat  dicere  regem." 

"  You  will  give  us  the  meaning  in  good  French,  I 
hope,  father,"  said  De  Metz. 


36  THE    SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  I  hope  the  angelic  visitant  is  not  quoted  verbatim," 
said  the  marshal  with  his  cynical  smile.  "  I  should  be 
loath  to  believe  that  the  heavenly  inhabitants  converse 
in  Latin  so  barbarous  as  this." 

"As  to  that  you  may  form  your  own  conclusion," 
said  Friar  Martin  with  dignity.  "  The  meaning  in 
common  speech  is  this :  — 

"  The  virgin,  her  maiden  limbs  clothed  with  manly 
garments,  hastens  to  relieve  the  prostrate  lily-bearing 
king.  She  will  destroy  the  wicked  foe,  especially 
those  who  are  now  under  the  walls  of  Orleans,  and 
keep  her  from  the  siege.  If  there  is  courage  enough 
in  the  men  to  join  the  war  and  follow  the  arms  which 
now  the  blessed  Maid  prepares,  she  believes  that  the 
perfidious  English  will  fall  a  prey  to  death,  the  French 
scattering  them  under  the  martial  lead  of  the  Maid. 
Then  there  will  be  an  end  of  fighting;  then  will  re 
turn  the  ancient  covenants  and  love  and  piety  and 
other  laws.  Then  will  they  contend  for  peace ;  all  to 
gether  of  their  own  accord  will  they  favor  the  King, 
who  will  dispense  justice  to  all  whom  he  cherishes  in 
beautiful  peace.  Then  there  will  no  longer  be  an 
English  foe  who  presumes  to  call  himself  king  of  the 
French." 

"  Another  unfulfilled  prophecy,"  said  the  marshal, 
rising  and  stretching  himself  with  a  yawn.  "  But 
enough  of  prophecy  and  psalm-singing.  Here  comes 


THE    VILLAGE    FESTIVAL.  37 

a  train  of  the  nymphs  of  the  forest.  Let  us  follow 
where  they  lead." 

A  company  of  young  girls  dressed  in  white,  with  gar 
lands  in  their  hands,  walked  slowly  up  the  winding 
path  that  led  from  the  village ;  and  at  their  approach 
a  general  movement  took  place  among  the  crowd,  who 
were  waiting  for  this  signal  to  seek  the  rendezvous  of 
former  May -day  festivals,  the  fairy  spring  in  the  forest. 
A  few  rods  within  the  woods  an  open  glade  made  a 
centre  for  converging  foot-paths,  which  ended  where  a 
spring  bubbled  out  of  the  earth  at  the  foot  of  a  gigan 
tic  beech.  The  natural  fountain  was  furnished  with 
a  stone  coping,  and  a  paved  channel  for  outlet.  The 
water  was  so  clear  that  the  movement  of  the  sand  at 
the  bottom  under  the  impulse  of  the  bubbling  waves 
could  be  plainly  seen.  The  branches  of  the  tree 
decked  with  the  fresh  leaves  of  early  summer  lightly 
swept  its  surface  as  the  wind  swayed  their  elastic 
tips. 

"This  is  where  the  fairies  used  to  dance  on  moon 
light  nights,"  said  Robin  to  Des  Armoises,  whose  side 
he  had  regained  after  having  been  for  a  time  unwil 
lingly  left  behind.  "I  mind  well  that  my  godmother 
told  me  that  when  she  was  a  girl  she  saw  a  lady  all 
in  white  rise  out  of  the  water,  and  float  through  the  air 
into  the  forest;  and  Mother  Suzette  will  tell  you  that 
in  her  day  voices  have  been  often  heard  about  the 


38  THE   SHIELD   OF  THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

tree ;  but  since  the  priests  blessed  the  fountain  and 
sprinkled  the  beech  with  holy  water  fairies  have  not 
been  seen.  Every  one  knows  that  the  water  has  a 
miraculous  power  to  cure  the  sick.  Folks  with  rheu 
matism  and  palsy  will  come  to  the  Fountain  of  the 
Branches  from  miles  around.  You  must  taste  the 
water  before  you  leave,  Messire.  And  if  you  are  tired 
you  will  forget  it ;  if  you  have  an  ache  or  a  pain,  it 
will  leave  you." 

"So  this  is  the  fairy  beech,"  exclaimed  the  Mar 
shal  de  Retz.  "I  have  heard  that  the  enemies  of 
Jeanne  Dare  made  use  of  her  mention  of  this  tree  to 
assist  them  in  formulating  the  accusation  of  witch 
craft  against  her." 

"Thus  they  attempted  to  distort  all  the  facts  of  her 
life,"  said  Jean  de  Metz.  "  It  was  formerly  the  custom 
in  the  village  to  hold  the  Festival  of  the  Fountains 
here  on  the  fourth  Sunday  in  Lent;  and  Jeanne  with 
her  companions  would  sing  and  dance  about  the  tree, 
and  hang  garlands  on  the  branches.  Since  her  death 
the  Lenten  festival  has  been  given  up ;  but  on  this 
day  of  commemoration  her  former  companions  repeat 
the  dance  and  the  song  in  her  memory." 

The  group  of  young  girls  had  begun  a  dance  with 
slow  pacing  feet  and  swaying  arms  about  the  fountain 
and  the  tree.  They  sang  a  mournful  song  in  a  minor 
key,  in  which  the  name  of  Jeanne  often  recurred ;  and 


THE  VILLAGE  FESTIVAL.  39 

when  they  had  thrice  made  the  round  they  hung  their 
garlands  on  the  branches,  and  departed,  pausing  as 
they  went  to  dip  their  fingers  in  the  spring,  and  moisten 
their  lips  with  the  water. 

The  gathering  now  broke  up,  each  in  departing  tak 
ing  a  drink  of  the  fairy  spring.  Des  Armoises,  Jean 
de  Metz,  and  the  marshal  descended  the  hill  together. 

"Some  day,"  said  the  marshal,  "  I  will  give  a  festival 
in  honor  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  which  shall  be  worthy 
of  her.  I  shall  have  the  scenes  of  her  life  acted  out 
by  trained  players  in  a  mystery  where  all  shall  be  seen 
exactly  as  it  occurred.  Angels  with  gilt  wings  shall 
appear  on  the  scene.  The  French  and  English  shall 
fight  before  the  eyes  of  the  spectators.  Hippocras 
shall  flow  as  freely  as  the  water  of  your  village  spring. 
All  France  shall  take  note  of  the  affair,  while  the 
report  of  your  celebration  goes  hardly  beyond  the 
nearest  town." 

"  Ah,  that  could  be  done  by  a  great  lord  like  your 
worship,  if  you  had  the  will,"  said  De  Metz.  "Would 
that  it  might  help  to  hasten  the  day  of  her  rehabilita 
tion." 

"  The  future  may  have  a  surprise  in  store  for  you," 
said  the  marshal.  "  What  would  you  say,  Master 
Jean,  if  one  told  in  your  ear  that  Jeanne  never  suffered 
the  death  at  Rouen?  that  at  this  hour  she  lives  and 
is  well?" 


40  THE  SHIELD   OF  THE   FLEUR-DE-LTS. 

Both  De  Metz  and  Des  Armoises  started.  The  mar 
shal  laughed  as  he  observed  them.  "Meet  me,  both 
of  you,  at  sunset,"  he  continued.  "  I  will  then  explain 
my  meaning,  and  entertain  you  with  a  story  you  will 
be  glad  to  hear." 

He  left  them  with  these  words,  as  if  unwilling  to 
be  questioned,  and  went  to  rejoin  his  attendants,  who 
were  waiting  with  the  horses  near  the  church  door, 
a  centre  for  the  curious  and  admiring  gaze  of  the  small 
boys  of  Domre"my,  who  had  never  had  the  luck  to  see 
accoutrements  so  splendid  as  the  embroidered  housing 
of  the  marshal's  gray  charger  and  the  richly  fashioned 
garments  of  his  men. 


IN    THE   COTTAGE.  41 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN  THE  COTTAGE. 

you  think  he  speaks  truth?"  asked 
Des  Armoises  eagerly,  when  he  was 
left  alone  with  his  fellow  towns 
man.  De  Metz  shook  his  head  with 
a  sigh.  "It  is  an  old  story,"  he 
said.  "It  has  been  maintained  from  that  day  to  this 
by  those  who  loved  Jeanne  and  refused  to  credit  the 
fact  of  her  death  as  something  too  horrible  to  be  true. 
Alas,  I  have  learned  that  nothing  is  too  sad  to  be 
possible.  Only  in  an  imaginary  world  does  right 
triumph,  and  the  just  cause  prevail." 

"  If  it  were  true,  the  first  to  be  told  of  it  should 
be  that  grief-stricken  household  yonder,"  said  Des  Ar 
moises,  pointing  to  the  cottage  whose  roof  was  visible 
among  the  trees.  "  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of 
that  mother's  face." 

"  Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  learn  to  know  her," 
said  De  Metz.  "  Do  not  mention  what  you  have  heard, 
for  false  hopes  must  not  again  disturb  her.  For  a  year 
or  more  Isabel  Romee  refused  to  believe  that  Jeanne 


42  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

was  dead.  Every  flattering  rumor  started  by  the  credu 
lity  of  the  common  folk  kept  her  in  an  agitation  which 
was  worse  than  settled  despair.  Now  she  accepts  the 
truth.  Father  Ambrose  has  seen  Jeanne  in  visions,  and 
has  had  words  of  consolation  from  her  for  her  family. 
He  is  a  man  of  wonderful  spirituality.  He  fasts  and 
mortifies  the  body  until  he  is  often  nearer  to  the  other 
world  than  this." 

"  Perhaps  the  family  will  not  permit  the  intrusion  of 
a  stranger  to-day,"  said  Des  Armoises  as  they  neared 
the  cottage. 

"  I  like  your  face,"  said  De  Metz.  "  I  noticed  the 
sympathy  you  gave  to  all  that  was  said  in  praise  of 
Jeanne.  I  will  present  you  to  the  family  as  a  friend ;  " 
and  urged  by  the  pressure  of  De  Metz's  hand  upon  his 
arm,  Des  Arrnoises  found  himself  within  the  cottage 
and  the  centre  of  the  group  before  the  hearth. 

Isabel  and  Jacques,  with  their  sons  near  them,  sat  on 
either  side  of  the  wide  fireplace,  whose  smoldering  em 
bers  had  lately  cooked  the  dinner  of  which  the  guests 
who  crowded  the  farther  room,  relatives  of  near  or  dis 
tant  degree,  were  even  now  partaking,  and  none  the 
less  heartily  that  the  family  of  Du  Lis  refused  to  break 
their  fast  on  this  anniversary  of  their  greatest  sorrow. 

Isabel  nodded  to  De  Metz,  and  stared  with  lustreless 
eyes  at  his  companion. 

"  This  is  a  gentleman  who  is  a  native  of  my  own  city 


.      IN  THE   COTTAGE.  43 

of  Metz,  and  is  now  on  his  way  there,"  De  Metz  ex 
plained,  while  Pierre  hastened  to  bring  seats  for  the 
guests.  "  He  has  taken  part  in  our  festival,  and  wishes 
to  pay  his  respects  as  a  friend  to  the  family  of  Jeanne 
Dare." 

"  I  have  learned  to  measure  your  grief  by  my  sym 
pathy  for  it,"  said  Des  Armoises.  "  It  has  touched  me 
deeply." 

Isabel's  thin  lips  quivered  into  an  incredulous  smile. 

"  What  can  you  or  any  one  else  know  of  it  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Our  grief  is  measureless.  First  Jeanne,  then 
Jacques,  then  Catherine  ;  burned,  wasted,  and  drowned. 
Jacques  used  to  sit  where  you  are  sitting,  and  look  with 
horror  at  the  flame  there  on  the  hearth.  '  Mother,'  he 
said,  '  I  could  live  if  I  did  not  have  to  see  a  fire.'  One 
day  near  the  last  of  his  life,  I  found  him  sobbing  with 
anguish.  He  had  burnt  his  hand  in  the  hot  coals. 
'Foolish  lad,'  I  said;  '  if  so  careless,  canst  not  bear  the 
pain  ? '  — '  Ay,  the  pain  in  the  hand,  but  not  in  the 
heart,'  he  said;  '1  held  it  there  in  the  flames  on  pur 
pose,  and  thought  of  Jeanne.'  " 

Isabel  spoke  in  a  monotonous  voice,  without  emo 
tion  ;  but  at  her  words  a  burst  of  grief  arose  from  those 
within  the  room,  whose  number  had  been  reinforced  by 
some  of  those  at  table.  The  old  man  opposite  her  bent 
forward  in  his  seat,  and  tore  his  scanty  gray  locks  with 
a  frantic  gesture. 


44  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

She  looked  at  him  with  some  concern.  "  I  did  not 
know  he  would  understand,"  she  murmured. 

"  Control  yourself,  mother,"  said  Pierre,  the  younger 
son,  advancing  with  a  frown.  "  Of  what  use  is  it  to 
bring  up  these  miserable  thoughts?  The  dead  are 
dead.  Consider  those  who  remain,  whose  lives  are 
still  precious." 

"  Why,  then,  have  this  day  of  prayer  and  preaching 
and  visiting  to  urge  the  dead  upon  our  remembrance?  " 
asked  Isabel  with  calm  incisiveness.  "  Ask  Master 
Jean  de  Metz  why  he  comes  here  to  disturb  us.  Why 
cannot  he  leave  us  in  peace,  and  let  us  forget?  But 
when  all  are  bent  upon  remembering  Jeanne,  let  them 
give  a  thought  to  Jacques  and  to  Catherine.  He  was 
the  best  lad ;  a  heart  of  gold.  He  never  gave  me 
trouble.  He  was  the  one  I  could  best  lean  upon ;  and 
he  is  the  one  who  must  be  taken.  Then,  when  all 
praise  Jeanne,  let  them  not  blame  Catherine  because 
she  saw  no  angels,  and  was  not  elected  to  be  a  saint. 
She  was  a  good  girl,  and  did  her  duty  in  her  station 
as  maid-servant  to  the  duchess.  It  is  a  station  as 
high  as  many.  For  she  was  well  liked  and  trusted ; 
and  when  she  came  last  to  visit  us,  she  showed  rne  a 
ring  that  the  wife  of  Duke  R^n^  had  given  her.  She 
little  thought  she  was  to  wear  it  to  her  death.  It  was 
that  day  fortnight  she  disappeared. 

They  found  her  hood  on  the  river-bank  at  Nancy. 


IN   THE   COTTAGE.  45 

She  was  drowned,  they  say;  and  we  must  believe  it, 
and  ask  no  questions.  There  is  no  justice  for  those 
who  are  born  as  peasants,  even  when  they  are  made 
noble  by  the  gift  of  the  king." 

"  Heavens,  mother !  "  cried  Pierre,  "  what  evil  spirit 
possesses  you  to  torture  us  with  these  senseless  sus 
picions  ?  If  there  had  been  proof  of  foul  play,  justice 
would  have  been  done  our  family  as  soon  as  the  best 
in  the  land,  for  the  king  is  bent  upon  honoring  us. 
But  nothing  could  be  learned  of  Catherine's  disappear 
ance.  She  was  drowned  by  accident  no  doubt,  —  a 
false  step  in  the  darkness.  Why  talk  of  it  now  when 
our  hearts  are  sore  and  heavy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ay,"  said  Isabel,  "  that  is  all  the  comfort  I  can 
expect.  You  are  young,  and  can  forget.  Old  people 
must  remember  the  children  they  have  borne  and 
nourished  when  they  are  lost  to  them." 
.  "  I  am  sorry  you  find  her  thus,"  said  Pierre,  turning 
to  his  guests.  "  Some  days  she  will  sit  like  my  father, 
without  opening  her  mouth ;  but  the  service  at  the 
church  to-day,  and  the  sight  of  the  crowd,  excited  her. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  well,  Master  Jean,  to  let  this 
matter  drop  out  of  remembrance  for  a  time.  This 
yearly  commemoration  can  only  renew  our  grief ;  and 
to  what  purpose  ?  " 

"No  wonder  France  is  ungrateful,  when  Jeanne's 
own  family  wish  to  forget  her,"  cried  De  Metz  in  deep 


46  THE   SHIELD   OF  THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

displeasure.  "It  is  the  purpose  of  my  life  to  do 
justice  to  the  fame  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans.  You 
know  my  mind,  Pierre ;  I  have  often  told  you  of 
it." 

"Ay,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  good-will,"  said 
Pierre  ;  "  but  time  will  work  its  own  cure.  When  the 
English  are  once  driven  from  the  land,  when  our  cruel 
distractions  are  healed,  the  people  will  remember 
Jeanne  and  what  she  did  for  them.  The  present 
concerns  me  more  than  the  past.  What  is  the  use  of 
burdening  it  with  all  the  grief  of  yesterday  ? "  He 
rose  and  set  the  door  ajar  to  let  in  the  breeze  and 
sunshine.  The  small,  low  room  was  oppressively 
close. 

De  Metz  followed  him  with  a  silent  bow  of  farewell 
to  the  others.  "  They  tell  me,  Pierre,"  he  said,  "that 
the  king  has  promised  to  give  you  a  rich  grant  of  land 
as  a  reward  for  your  services  in  the  war.  You  will 
soon  be  a  great  man.  Already  you  show  the  tokens  of 
it.  But  remember  to  whom  you  owe  nobility  and 
promotion." 

Pierre  flung  back  his  head  with  an  angry  frown. 
"It  is  not  those  who  protest  the  most  who  have  the 
deepest  feelings,"  he  said.  "  I  need  no  one  to  instruct 
me  in  my  duty  to  my  sister's  memory." 

De  Metz  sighed  heavily  as  Des  Armoises  rejoined 
him  outside. 


IN   THE  COTTAGE.  47 

"  I  fear  my  pains  have  been  vain,"  he  said.  "  My 
heart  was  set  upon  this  festival ;  yet  what  has  it  ac 
complished  ?  " 

"  Believe  that  you  contrived  it  for  my  pleasure,  and 
take  my  thanks  for  it,"  said  Des  Armoises.  "  I  have 
been  deeply  interested  and  impressed.  In  no  other 
way  could  I  have  learned  so  intimately  the  history  of 
your  famous  heroine  as  by  the  scenes  of  this  day,  which 
have  brought  her  character  so  vividly  to  mind." 

Des  Armoises  spoke  from  the  heart.  He  was  sur 
prised  to  find  to  what  an  extent  the  subject  had  en 
thralled  his  imagination.  The  image  of  the  Maid  of 
Orleans  took  form  and  color,  gained  in  verisimilitude 
and  proportion,  until  it  stood  like  a  life-endowed  Gal 
atea  in  the  inmost  shrine  of  his  fancy.  Womanhood 
must  henceforth  pass  comparison  with  this  eidolon  in 
order  to  win  his  admiration.  Indeed,  the  young  man 
had  always  had  a  yearning  for  moral  beauty  in  the 
feminine  type,  remembering  an  idolized  mother;  and 
he  had  scorned  the  lesser  good  while  accommodating 
himself  to  it,  feeling  the  thorn  pricks  of  conscience  in 
every  relinquishment  of  his  ideal.  He  felt  stirred  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  new  devotion,  and  happily  agitated 
by  the  thought  that  it  was  perhaps  possible  to  en 
counter  the  object  of  it  alive  and  in  the  flesh ;  for  who 
could  prejudge  the  marshal's  story  without  hearing  its 
evidence  ?  He  would  not  encounter  De  Metz's  skepti- 


48  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

cism  by  a  discussion  of  the  subject ;  but  he  parted  with 
his  melancholy  companion  with  the  understanding  that 
they  should  meet  at  sunset  at  the  inn.  This  rendez 
vous  was  punctually  observed. 


THE    SONG    OF   JEANNE   DARC.  49 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   SONG    OF   JEANNE  DARC. 

[HE  inn  yard  was  deserted,  except  for 
a  few  gaunt  pigs  and  stray  hens 
that  were  engaged  according  to  their 
several  habits  in  making  a  meal 
out  of  the  scattered  fragments  of 
the  dinner  flung  within  their  reach.  As  the  two 
young  men  approached,  Robin  ran  out  of  the  rick- 
yard  with  a  heavy  sack  of  provender  flung  over  his 
shoulders. 

* "  No  chance  for  supper  here,"  he  called  to  Des 
Armoises.  "A  pest  on  the  marshal  of  France,  who 
has  put  all  upside  down.  You  may  house  yourself, 
and  sup  on  bare  boards,  if  you  can  find  a  crust  in 
the  cupboard.  The  inn  and  its  keepers  are  turned 
out  of  doors." 

He  continued  to  run  towards  the  river-bank,  where 
it  would  appear  that  the  household  of  Ribaut  had 
betaken  themselves  with  all  their  possessions  ;  for 
there  the  phlegmatic  Jean  and  the  indefatigable  Mari 
anne  were  to  be  seen,  surrounded  with  goods  and 


50  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

chattels  of  various  sorts,  engaged  in  superintending 
their  ferriage  to  an  island  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  shore,  where  the  walls  of  the  ruined  chateau  of 
Domremy  still  maintained  an  appearance  of  dilap 
idated  grandeur. 

"  Bad  luck  fall  upon  the  Marshal  de  Retz !  "  cried 
Marianne,  as  Des  Armoises  approached  her  with  a 
good-humored  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of  her  unusual 
occupation.  "  Our  inn  is  not  good  enough  for  his 
high  mightiness,  and  he  must  needs  lodge  with  bats 
and  rats  in  the  chateau.  Worse  than  that,  we  must 
upset  all  to  serve  him  with  bed  and  board  there,  where 
none  but  ghosts  have  walked  these  twenty  years.  He 
has  the  evil  eye,  and  has  bewitched  us,  or  else  we  are 
gone  crazy  to  do  his  bidding.  I  liked  not  his  look 
when  first  I  saw  him  ;  but  he  is  free  with  his  gold,  and 
comes  from  the  Court,  and  therefore  Jean  Ribaut  wttl 
crawl  in  the  dust  to  please  him." 

The  burly  Jean,  whose  portliness  of  frame  contra 
dicted  this  bold  metaphor,  frowned  at  his  wife,  and 
laid  his  finger  on  his  lips. 

"  Hold  thy  tongue,"  he  said,  jingling  the  coins  in 
his  pocket  with  an  air  of  contentment.  "  For  this 
cask  of  wine  and  the  labor  of  moving  it,  I  get  more 
than  Josson  and  Andre*  and  the  rest  would  have  paid 
me  in  months  for  the  price  of  their  mugfuls,  reck 
oned  with  interest  at  usury.  There  is  no  haggling 


THE   SONG   OF   JEANNE   DARC.  51 

about  my  charges ;  and  for  all  that  we  suffer  by  flood 
or  field,  the  marshal  shall  pay  double  and  treble." 

"Have  a  care  to  thyself,  friend,  if  attempting  to 
cheat  my  master,"  cried  a  voice  in  his  ear;  and  the 
innkeeper  started  to  see  one  of  the  marshal's  men  close 
at  his  side,  his  halberd  over  his  shoulder.  "  Belike, 
thou  takest  me  for  a  common  soldier;  but  I  may  as 
well  tell  thee  that  I  am  a  man  of  the  church,  a  priest, 
though  on  occasion  I  doff  my  gown.  I  am  also  a 
wizard  of  no  mean  repute.  The  ghosts  of  the  castle 
shall  haunt  thee  to-night,  if  the  beds  provided  for  our 
use  are  no  better  than  those  I  see  yonder.  Bring  out 
thy  own  geese-feather  mattress ;  and  if  there  are  any 
extra  bottles  of  a  choice  vintage  kept  in  the  cupboard 
whose  key  hangs  at  thy  girdle,  thou  shalt  not  sleep 
unless  they  grace  my  master's  table." 

So  saying,  he  strode  forward  and  sprang  into  the 
heavily  loaded  boat  in  which  the  ferryman  was  making 
ready  to  push  out  from  shore. 

Jean  Ribaut  grew  pale,  and  crossed  himself.  "  How 
did  he  know  of  the  chimney  cupboard  ? "  he  whis 
pered  to  his  wife,  who  stood  aghast.  "It  must  be  he 
is  a  wizard,  as  he  says.  More  wizard  than  priest,  I 
warrant.  Run,  get  the  bottles,  Marianne,  and  tell 
Jacquard  to  bring  the  feather  bed,  and  add  a  roast 
pullet  for  the  marshal's  table ;  for  already  my  blood 
runs  cold,  and  I  feel  a  strange  weakness  in  the  calves 
of  my  legs." 


52  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  Thou  art  a  fool,  Jean  Ribaut,"  retorted  Marianne. 
"A  good  Christian,  whose  conscience  is  clear,  has  no 
cause  to  fear  the  devil ;  "  but  as  she  spoke  she  thrust 
her  thumbs  inwards,  and  secretly  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  resolving  that  the  marshal  should  taste  the 
best  of  her  stores. 

The  two  flat-bottomed  barges  which  served  for  ferry 
across  the  river-shallows  went  back  and  forth  many 
times  before  the  Marshal  de  Retz  was  installed,  com- 
formably  to  his  whimsical  wish,  in  the  one  remaining 
tower  of  the  ruined  castle.  Des  Armoi'ses  and  his 
companion,  as  soon  as  their  presence  was  observed, 
were  bidden  to  make  part  of  his  company  for  the  night. 

The  chateau  of  Domremy  had  been  uninhabited,  as 
Marianne  had  said,  for  twenty  years,  and  comfort  with 
in  its  walls  was  out  of  the  question;  but  the  warm 
summer  night  made  a  canopy  of  star-bespangled  sky 
more  desirable  than  the  low  smoke-begrimed  ceilings 
of  the  inn,  and  Des  Armoises  rejoiced  in  the  sweet 
breath  that  came  across  the  river  meadows,  and  in 
the  picturesque  effect  which  the  deepening  shadows 
lurking  under  arch  and  buttress  gave  to  the  ancient 
pile. 

The  drawbridge  had  fallen  to  decay.  The  rusty 
portcullis  hung  awry  in  its  frame.  The  gradual  fall 
ing  of  the  walls  had  filled  the  moat  with  piles  of 
rubbish.  Grass  grew  over  the  untrodden  courtyard, 


THE   SONG   OF   JEANNE   DARC.  53 

as  it  did  over  the  greater  part  of  the  island,  kept 
green  and  luxuriant  by  the  mists  that  rose  from  the 
river.  The  cows  and  goats  of  Domremy  and  Greux, 
when  astray  for  many  days,  were  searched  for  and 
often  found  upon  the  island  where  the  peasants  and 
their  flocks  sought  refuge  in  times  of  danger,  the 
sweet  taste  of  the  herbage  lingering  as  a  memory 
in  bovine  minds. 

The  marshal  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  tower, 
and  gave  a  hand  to  Des  Armoises  and  De  Metz  in  turn. 

"You  are  welcome,"  he  said.  "Jean  de  Novelonpont, 
or  De  Metz,  is  an  old  comrade  of  mine,  though  he 
fails  to  remember  me  as  a  friend.  You,  Sire  Des 
Armoises,  come  riding  from  the  East  in  quest  of  ad 
ventures,  like  Guyon  and  the  rest  of  the  knights  of 
chivalry  of  whom  my  jongleur  will  sing  to  you  till 
you  are  weary  enough  to  sleep  in  even  such  a  fox 
hole  as  this.  Then  I  will  tell  you,  as  I  promised,  my 
story  of  the  Maid,  which  is  as  strange  as  a  page  from 
a  romance." 

His  restless  eyes,  which  turned  from  side  to  side 
without  the  power  to  give  or  to  encounter  a  steady 
gaze,  met  and  crossed  Des  Armoises 's  look.  The  young 
man  felt  a  shudder  of  instinctive  repugnance.  Many 
people  experienced  this  uneasy  consciousness  of  anx 
iety  or  repulsion  in  De  Retz's  presence,  and  mur 
mured  a  charm  against  the  evil  eye. 


54  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

A  couple  of  bats  frightened  by  the  torches  whirled 
in  a  sudden  flight  across  the  marshal's  face,  flapping 
it  with  their  leathery  wings.  The  contact  aroused 
a  fury  in  the  man;  and  forgetting  to  play  the  be 
nignant  host,  he  drew  his  sword  with  a  quick  im 
precation,  and  cleft  the  air  right  and  left,  up  and 
down,  with  the  agility  of  a  practiced  swordsman.  The 
devious  Sittings  of  the  bats  and  the  flashing  sword- 
cuts  made  intersecting  circles  here  and  there,  until 
at  last  one  of  the  intruders  met  the  blade  and  fell 
before  it. 

"A  dead  bat,"  cried  De  Retz  with  a  hollow  laugh, 
"  a  noble  foe,  for  perhaps  it  embodied  the  soul  of 
the  churlish  Lord  of  Domre'my,  who  resents  our  in 
trusion  of  his  domain.  Take  it,  Francois,  for  the 
nightly  bubbling  of  thy  wizard's  caldron." 

He  lifted  the  body  of  the  bat  by  the  tip  of  the 
wing,  and  flung  it  at  his  attendant,  who  looked  up 
with  an  angry  frown. 

"  He  is  a  wizard,  but  a  benevolent  one,"  continued 
the  marshal.  "  He  will  tell  your  fortunes  better  than 
the  best  astrologer.  He  is  a  better  prophet  than 
Christan  de  Pisan.  Build  up  the  fires,  my  men.  The 
dampness  of  a  tomb  is  in  these  moldy  walls.  Seat 
yourselves,  gentlemen  ;  for  the  supper  is  ready,  and 
our  landlord's  sour  wine  will  be  grateful  if  it  has 
strength  to  warm  our  veins." 


THE   SONG   OF   JEANNE   DARC.  55 

Although  the  marshal  made  a  show  of  cheerful 
hospitality,  a  gloomy  constraint  had  fallen  on  his 
guests,  which  a  tolerable  supper  and  Jean  Ribaut's 
best  wine  could  not  enliven. 

"  Something  of  the  chill  of  the  place  has  touched 
our  spirits,"  said  De  Retz.  "  Francois,  call  my  jon 
gleur,  and  bid  him  string  his  guitar,  and  sing  us  one 
of  his  old  chansons  de  geste" 

The  musician  thus  introduced  entered  the  circle 
with  a  bow  to  each  in  turn.  He  was  a  man  between 
forty  and  fifty ;  but  his  snow-white  hair  and  thin,  bent 
frame  suggested  a  greater  age.  His  eyes  were  bright, 
and  their  look  keen  and  intelligent,  but  at  times  anx 
ious  and  full  of  an  uneasy  suspicion,  which  was  con 
tradicted  by  the  assumed  gayety  of  his  manner  when 
he  talked  or  sang.  His  hands  were  slim  and  white 
as  those  of  a  woman ;  and  the  delicacy  of  his  features 
suggested  refinement  and  distinction,  ideas  ludicrously 
at  variance  with  his  costume,  the  parti-colored  gar 
ments,  slouch  hat,  and  wide-sleeved  mantle  of  a  min 
strel. 

"Noble  lords  and  ladies  fair,  though  here  I  err,  for 
there  are  none  of  the  latter,  God  give  you  his  bless 
ing,"  he  began,  running  his  fingers  over  the  strings  for 
prelude.  "What  shall  I  sing?  Will  you  have  the 
tale  of  the  noble  Gui  de  Bourgogne,  or  do  you  pre 
fer  the  famous  combat  of  the  peerless  Oliver  with 


56  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  noble  giant  Fierabras  ?  Or  would  this  young 
knight  with  the  fair  countenance  like  better  to  hear 
of  the  loves  of  Doon  and  Nicolette?  All  are  at  the 
tip  of  my  tongue.  The  peers  of  Charlemagne  are 
better  known  to  me  than  the  noble  knights  and  men- 
at-arms  who  follow  our  royal  master,  Charles  of  France, 
in  his  illustrious  wars  against  the  ancient  enemies  of 
our  country.  The  trouvere  who  is  to  write  of  their 
renown  has  not  yet  appeared.  Poetry,  alas  !  has  taken 
flight  from  our  unhappy  land;  and  only  in  the  south, 
where  the  barbarous  langue  d'oc  vexes  the  ear,  do 
they  still  make  pretense  of  verse-making.  We  must 
turn  to  the  past,  the  golden  age  of  chivalry,  to  find 
the  models  of  all  knightly  virtues  embalmed  in 
melody  like  a  fly  in  amber.  Choose,  then,  my  masters, 
and  the  best  efforts  of  my  art  shall  be  at  your  com 
mand." 

"David's  tongue  runs  like  the  clapper  of  a  mill- 
hopper,"  said  De  Retz.  "Give  him  a  subject  for  his 
song,  that  we  may  have  less  of  his  speech.  What  shall 
it  be,  a  love  ditty  for  our  young  knight-errant  from  the 
East,  whose  face  was  made  to  please  the  women  ?  " 

"  No, "  exclaimed  Des  Armoises  ;  "  love  and  I  for 
ever  parted  company  a  twelvemonth  since.  Sing  us  a 
tale  of  war  and  carnage,  blood  running  to  the  saddle 
bow,  some  of  the  wondrous  deeds  of  Oliver  or  Roland." 

"  There  is  none  better  than  the  old  song  of   Fiera- 


THE   SONG    OF  JEANNE   DARC.  57 

bras,"  said  the  minstrel;  and,  touching  his  guitar,  he 
began  to  sing :  — 

"  Fierabras  d'Alixandre  fist  moult  a  redouter  ; 
La  ou  voit  Olivier  sel  prent  a  apeler  ; 
'  Olivier,  or  vien  avant,  si  me  venras  armer, 
Savoir  se  te  porroie  de  bataille  tourner.' 
Et  respont  Olivier,  '  Oserai  m'i  fier  ?  ' 
'  Oil,'  dist  Fierabras,  '  ne  t'en  estuet  douter, 
Ja  ne  serai  traites  tant  com  puisse  durer.' 

Et  li  doi  baron  brocent,  si  ont  esperonne; 
De  plain  eslais  s'encontrent  du  tout  abandonne. 
Mirvilleus  caus  se  donnent,  bien  se  sont  encontre, 
Ha  Diex  !  com  rice  jouste  !  mainte  gent  1'ont  loe." 

"Not  that  antiquated  Picard  jargon  of  a  century 
ago,"  cried  De  Retz  impatiently ;  "  my  ears  already 
ache  with  the  barbarous  phrases  they  have  been  tor 
tured  with  to-day.  Sing  us  your  song  of  Jeanne  Dare, 
David;  it  will  serve  as  a  prelude  to  my  tale." 

David  flushed  quickly,  and  looked  shyly  about  him, 
as  he  said,  "  I  told  you,  gentlemen,  that  poetry  was 
dead  in  France ;  but  I  was  like  a  maiden  who  denies 
her  love  while  caressing  some  jewel  that  is  its  token. 
I  myself  have  made  a  changon  de  geste  on  the  subject 
of  our  heroic  Maid.  My  master  encourages  me  to 
believe  that  it  will  live  on  the  lips  of  singers  long 
after  my  bones  are  dust ;  but  as  yet  he  alone  has  heard 
it.  I  am  loath  to  give  it  to  an  unsympathetic  world. 
Grant  me  indulgence  for  all  shortcomings,  and  I  will 
sing  it  to  you ;  but  first,  let  me  explain  that,  in  order  to 


58  THE   SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

construct  the  framework  of  the  piece,  it  was  necessary 
to  falsify  history  according  to  the  amiable  habit  of  the 
trouvere,  who  exalts  imagination  above  fact.  Jeanne, 
like  Charlemagne  in  the  songs  that  praise  him, 
must  absorb  in  her  own  person  all  the  glory  of  the 
time  ;  and,  to  make  her  end  effective,  it  must  be  left 
shrouded  in  mystery.  She  disappears :  is  it  to  die, 
or  to  reappear  in  triumph  to  the  discomfiture  of  her 
enemies  ?  Judge  from  the  song." 

In  a  mellow  voice  he  began  to  sing  to  the  accompani 
ment  of  his  guitar  the  words  of  the  last  chanson  de  geste. 
It  was  marked  by  a  beauty  of  versification,  a  vigor  of 
action,  and  a  strength  of  construction,  which  placed 
its  merit  far  above  the  similar  compositions  of  a  former 
age.  It  was  an  epic  of  the  times,  having  for  its  central 
object  the  figure  of  the  Maid,  exaggerated  into  the  pro 
portions  of  a  heroine  of  romance.  History  was  sacri 
ficed  to  poetical  necessity.  The  trouvere  could  not 
picture  Jeanne  dejected  by  the  perfidy  and  indifference 
of  her  allies,  weeping  at  the  retreat  from  Paris,  betrayed 
to  her  enemies  at  Compiegne.  The  Maid  of  the  song 
was  invulnerable  and  omnipotent,  a  serene  image  of 
victory,  riding  from  conquest  to  conquest.  By  turns 
she  besieged  and  took  Bordeaux,  Bayonne,  Dieppe, 
Paris,  Harfleur,  Caen,  and  all  the  cities  of  Normandy, 
except  Rouen,  before  whose  walls  she  disappeared, 
without  leaving  a  trace.  A  prophecy  of  her  reappear- 


THE   SONG    OF   JEANNE   DAKC.  59 

ance  might  be  gathered  from  the  closing  lines.  David 
held  the  attention  of  his  auditors  from  first  to  last.  Des 
Armoises  was  struck  by  the  art  of  the  composition.  The 
tedious  recurring  rhyming  syllables  were  varied  by  the 
skill  of  the  poet,  who  avoided  monotony  of  accent, 
while  preserving  the  prescribed  form  of  the  verse. 
The  dialogue  of  the  personages,  in  which  the  trouveres 
delighted,  was  employed  by  David  in  scenes  of  genuine 
dramatic  power.  A  vein  of  satire  was  displayed  in  the 
delineation  of  the  royal  puppet,  who  was  moved  about 
at  the  will  of  the  Maid  whose  generosity  restored  to 
him  a  kingdom. 

De  Retz  and  Des  Armoises  applauded  loudly  at 
the  close.  De  Metz  sat  lost  in  thought. 

"It  is  well  done,"  he  said,  "but  it  is  not  the  truth. 
Jeanne  suffers  at  the  hands  of  her  friends.  I  beg 
you  will  not  give  this  to  the  world,  good  minstrel, 
until  the  reality  of  her  life  is  more  clearly  sifted  from 
the  chaff  of  envy  and  detraction.  For  your  clever 
verses  would  further  obscure  her  genuine  character, 
which  was  that  of  an  inspired  saint,  rather  than  a 
conquering  Amazon." 

David  laughed,  and  gave  no  promise.  Neither  he 
nor  De  Metz  could  foresee  the  singular  fate  that 
awaited  the  poem. 

'  After    the    minstrel's    untimely   end,    the    forgotten 
manuscript  was    found  by  a  pompous  courtier  given 


60  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

to  the  pursuits  of  literature,  and  eager  for  a  fame 
which  was  beyond  his  acquirement,  since  he  was 
handicapped  by  a  heavy  wit  and  slow  performance. 
He  dared  not  pose  as  a  po'et;  but  he  chopped  David's 
graceful  rhymes  to  pieces,  and  reunited  them  with 
clumsy  prose  which  hardly  served  to  obscure  their 
original  metrical  form,  while  forever  distorting  them 
and  obliterating  their  merits.  He  added  an  account 
of  Jeanne's  death  and  burial  in  a  costly  sepulchre, 
which  was  equally  at  variance  with  the  facts  of  his 
tory  and  the  purpose  of  the  poet;  and  concluded  with 
a  sycophantic  reference  to  a  royal  patron,  by  describ 
ing  the  marriage  of  Charles  VII.,  and  mentioning  that 
king's  descendants  to  the  third  generation. 

In  this  form  the  so-called  "  Chronicle  of  Lorraine" 
has  been  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  historians  from  that 
day  to  this.  They  have  gravely  considered  it  from 
all  points  of  view  except  the  true  one,  deprecating 
its  inconsistencies,  amazed  at  its  statements,  and 
never  beholding  in  its  mangled  and  distorted  shape 
the  chanpon  de  geste  of  the  last  trouvere. 

The  shadows  deepened  beneath  the  arches  of  the 
tower;  and  the  full  moon,  an  hour  high,  sent  shafts 
of  light  through  loophole  and  doorway,  discovering 
each  crevice  which  Time's  battering-ram  had  made 
in  the  crumbling  walls. 

"  Come,"  said  De  Retz,    "  since  David  has  finished 


THE   SONG    OF    JEANNE   DARC.  61 

his  song,  I  will  tell  you  my  tale.  Let  us  walk  upon 
the  terrace  while  we  talk." 

The  two  young  men  willingly  followed  him  into 
the  fragrant  night.  The  eastern  faQade  of  the  tower 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  as  if  built  of  white  mar 
ble  ;  and  the  marshal's  shadow  was  cast  like  a  blot 
upon  the  dazzling  sand  where  he  stood,  thoughtfully 
regarding  his  companions,  who  had  seated  themselves 
upon  a  fallen  pillar  in  expectation  of  the  promised 
narrative. 

"I  was,  as  you  know,  the  companion  at  arms  of 
Jeanne  Dare,"  lie  began.  "  I  rode  at  her  side  when 
we  entered  Orleans,  and  shared  the  welcome  that  was 
given  her  on  that  memorable  occasion.  I  was  one  of 
the  most  honored  assistants  at  the  consecration  of 
the  king  at  Rheims.  In  reward  for  my  services  I 
was  that  day  made  marshal  of  France ;  and  I  was 
one  of  the  four  knights  deputed  to  bear  the  sacred 
vial  from  the  abbey  of  Saint-Rdmi  to  the  church  of 
Notre  Dame.  The  abbe  bore  the  holy  vessel  on  a 
fringed  cushion ;  while  De  Bossac,  Graville,  the  ad 
miral,  and  myself,  on  horseback,  armed  at  all  points, 
with  our  banners  in  our  hands,  served  as  his  escort; 

and   rode   thus    into    the  church  as  far   as  the   choir, 

• 

and  back  again  to  the  abbey  when  the  service  was 
ended.  It  was  a  notable  time.  Jeanne,  as  she  stood, 
standard  in  hand,  beside  the  altar,  was  a  figure  never 
to  be  forgotten. 


62  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  I  remember  a  different  scene,  when  the  messenger 
brought  the  news  from  Rouen  to  the  king.  La  Tre*- 
moille  had  taken  pains  that  the  tidings  should  not 
reach  the  king's  ears  till  after  he  had  supped,  and 
was  taking  his  ease,  engaged  in  a  game  of  cards  with 
some  of  the  lords  and  ladies  of  the  court.  It  may 
be,  messire,  that  in  the  distant  East  you  have  never 
seen  a  pack  of  cards,  and  know  not  what  study  it 
requires  to  understand  them  and  the  games  that  are 
played  with  them.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  an  em 
blematical  and  allegorical  significance  in  every  color, 
heraldic  device,  and  floral  design.  Then  there  is  a 
historical  and  poetical  meaning  in  the  figures  and 
their  names  which  only  the  initiated  can  discover. 
Thirdly,  there  are  to  be  considered  the  number  and 
value  of  the  spots,  of  various  forms,  croissant  or  car- 
reau,  trefle,  pique,  and  cceur,  and  the  different  com 
binations  to  which  they  can  be  put. 

"  The  king  sat  at  a  table  with  Gerarde  Gassinel  at 
his  right,  and  Etienne  Chevalier  at  his  left.  La  Tre- 
moille  leaned  familiarly  upon  Charles's  shoulder.  The 
messenger  entered  the  anteroom.  A  chamberlain  took 
the  word  from  his  lips,  and  repeated  it  in  a  loud  voice, 
forgetting  ceremony  in  excitement.  '  Jeanne  Dare 
has  been  burned  at  Rouen,'  he  cried  without  prelimi 
nary.  Charles  grew  pale,  and  would  have  risen  in 
disorder ;  but  La  Tre'moille  gently  detained  him  by 


THE  SONG   OF  JEANNE  DARC.  63 

the  pressure  of  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  while 
with  the  other  hand  he  gathered  up  the  cards  which 
the  king's  trembling  fingers  would  have  let  slip. 
'Remember,  Sire,'  he  said,  'that  in  the  game  of  piquet 
the  king  of  spades  outranks  the  queen  of  diamonds.' 
You  should  know,  messire,  in  order  to  understand 
the  aptness  of  the  allusion,  that  the  king  of  spades, 
whose  name  is  Apollin,  represents  Charles  VII.,  and 
the  queen  of  diamonds,  whose  device  is  En  toy  te  fie, 
stands  for  Jeanne  Dare. 

"  Charles  sank  back  into  his  chair  without  uttering 
a  word ;  and  La  Tremoille  played  his  cards  to  the 
end  of  the  game,  though  the  king  no  longer  lent 
it  his  attention." 

Des  Armoises  uttered  an  exclamation  of  incredulous 
horror,  and  Novelonpont  started  in  angry  excitement. 

"  Is  it  for  this  you  have  brought  us  here  ?  "  he  cried, 
"to  relate  the  stale  gossip  of  the  court,  where  more 
than  one  disgraceful  scene  has  been  enacted  that 
would  better  be  forgotten.  Answer  me  these  ques 
tions,  Lord  de  Retz.  Who  shut  the  gates  of  Com- 
pie"gne  in  her  face,  and  left  Jeanne  to  be  taken  by 
her  enemies?  Who  stood  aloof,  and  made  no  sign 
for  rescue  or  ransom  when  she  was  held  a  prisoner 
at  Beaurevoir?  Who  allowed  the  completion  of  the 
devil's  pact  by  which  she  was  sold  to  the  English 
fiends?  Who  ignored  the  lingering  agony  of  her 


64  THE   SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

trial,  and  made  no  protest  against  the  deed  at  Rouen, 
the  most  heinous  crime  that  blots  the  annals  of  history, 
saving  only  the  greater  crime  at  Calvary.  Charles 
the  King  must  answer  to  each  accusing  question  at 
the  bar  of  God's  judgment;  though  to  each  La  Tre*- 
moille  also  must  plead  guilty  as  the  instigator  of 
the  villainy,  and  the  king  as  wax  in  his  hands." 

"These  are  bold  words,  Novelonpont,"  said  the 
marshal.  "  Spoken  to  another  than  a  friend,  they 
might  be  construed  as  treasonable.  I  admit  the  apathy 
of  the  king,  but  your  censure  of  it  is  founded  on 
ignorance.  He  knew,  as  I  did,  that  Jeanne  was  not 
burned  at  Rouen.  She  escaped  death  and  prison.  She 
still  lives  and  is  well." 

"  You  have  contrived  a  pleasant  fiction  to  entertain 
us  with,  Sire  de  Retz,"  said  De  Metz,  with  an  ironical 
smile.  "It  is,  however,  not  a  new  one,  for  I  have 
heard  it  in  all  forms  from  the  credulous  common 
folk.  A  learned  priest  once  told  me  that  every  na 
tion  has  its  buried  champion,  whose  death  the  people 
refuse  to  credit.  These  heroes  sit  in  their  sepulchres 
in  a  living  but  unbroken  sleep,  awaiting  the  hour 
which  fate  has  decreed  for  their  return  in  triumph  to 
the  rescue  of  their  beloved  land.  But  why  should 
you  mock  us  by  this  extravagance  ?  The  event  is 
still  too  near,  and  our  hearts  too  sore  to  bear  the 
jest." 


THE    SONG    OF   JEANNE   DARC.  65 

"  Jean  de  Novelopont,  or  De  Metz,"  said  the  marshal 
impressively,  "  listen  to  me.  When  the  prisoner  was 
led  to  execution  at  Rouen,  you  may  remember,  any  eye 
witness  will  tell  you,  that  her  face  was  hidden  from 
view  by  an  enormous  mitre  which  concealed  the  greater 
part  of  her  countenance ;  and  a  huge  frame  covered 
with  insulting  phrases  was  carried  before  her  which 
completely  hid  her  figure.  When  the  disfiguring  flames 
had  done  their  work,  the  body  was  exposed  to  the  view 
of  the  populace,  to  assure  them  that  a  woman,  unrecog 
nizable  then,  had  really  suffered  death,  so  quickly  was 
the  conviction  spread  in  every  mind  that  at  the  last 
moment  Jeanne  had  escaped  her  foes.  By  many  this 
has  been  maintained,  as  you  have  said,  from  that  day  to 
this ;  but  not  till  La  Tre'moille  fell  from  power  could 
those  in  whose  hands  Jeanne  has  trusted  herself  declare 
the  secret,  and  then  only  in  confidence  to  a  few  trusty 
friends.  The  hour  has  not  yet  come  when  the  truth 
can  be  made  known  to  all.  Political  considerations  of 
the  greatest  importance  forbid  her  appearance  at  this 
time.  She  must  wait  until  she  can  receive  the  welcome 
of  a  united  France.  You  need  not  doubt  my  informa 
tion  when  I  tell  you  that  within  a  year  Charles  and 
Philip  of  Burgundy  will  meet  as  brothers.  There  will 
be  no  more  talk  then  of  Dauphinois  or  Bourguignons. 
All  will  be  Frenchmen,  banded  together  against  a  com 
mon  foe.  Then  the  time  will  be  ripe  for  Jeanne  Dare 


66  THE    SHIELD   OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

to  arise,  like  your  buried  heroes  from  their  tombs,  and 
lead  the  way  to  the  final  victory  over  the  English, 
which  she  often  foretold  as  the  end  of  her  mission." 

"  What  a  glorious  idea ! "  exclaimed  Des  Armoises. 
"  Your  minstrel  must  weave  that  ending  into  his 
romance  before  he  gives  it  to  the  world." 

"Alas,  that  it  should  be  romance  and  not  truth," 
said  Novelonpont.  "If  Jeanne  were  alive,  we,  her 
friends,  would  know  it.  Her  brother  would  not  have 
died  of  grief  at  her  loss.  She  would  have  found  some 
way  to  convey  the  joyful  tidings  to  her  stricken 
family." 

De  Retz  drew  himself  up  haughtily.  "  You  attack 
my  honor,  by  questioning  my  word,"  he  said.  "You 
shall  see  Jeanne  Dare  and  speak  to  her  a  twelvemonth 
hence." 

"Are  you  willing  that  I  should  tell  the  news  at 
once  to  her  unhappy  parents  ? "  asked  Novelonpont 
ironically. 

"As  I  have  told  you,  imperative  reasons  of  state 
demand  delay,"  replied  the  marshal.  "  I  do  not  forbid 
you  to  reveal  what  you  have  heard ;  but  remember  that 
the  burden  of  proof  will  rest  on  you,  and  the  ills  that 
result  to  France,  to  the  king,  to  Jeanne  herself,  will 
be  the  work  of  your  blundering  zeal.  She  is  safe  in 
the  hands  of  friends  diplomatic  enough  to  arrange  all 
for  her  good ;  men  who  are  deeply  conversant  with  the 


THE   SONG   OF   JEANNE   DARG.  67 

politics  of  the  time,  who  feel  the  pulse  of  the  nation, 
who  unravel  the  devious  lines  of  contrary  policies  and 
guide  them  to  their  end.  I  have  told  you  this  freely  as 
to  trusted  comrades.  I  can  add  no  more,  but  bid  you 
wait  patiently,  but  with  hope.  When  next  we  meet 
the  Maid  may  be  of  our  company." 

"  Will  it  be  within  a  year  ?  "  asked  Des  Armoises. 

"  I  fancy  it  will  prove  so,"  replied  the  marshal.  "  I 
follow  the  court  or  the  army ;  you,  I  believe,  go  to 
Metz  ;  Novelonpont  here  has  a  post  at  Vaucouleurs, 
where  he  serves  his  king  and  country  as  collector  of 
imposts.  But  when  Charles  and  Philip  join  hands  we 
will  meet  again,  shall  we  say  at  Metz,  your  native 
town  ?  Ay,  let  us  fix  the  rendezvous  there ;  a  year 
hence  if  God  wills,  —  two  years  it  may  be,  —  in  Metz, 
to  welcome  the  Pucelle." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  cried  Des  Armoises.  "I  would 
give  all  I  own  to  meet  that  glorious  being  in  the  flesh." 

"  You  shall  do  so  at  a  less  price,"  said  De  Retz  ; 
"  but  yonder  comes  a  messenger  I  have  been  expect 
ing.  I  will  receive  him,  and  return  to  you  again." 

He  waved  his  hand  in  farewell,  and  strolled  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  terrace,  where,  after  gazing  steadily 
for  a  while  across  the  rippling  current  of  the  river  as  if 
engaged  in  watching  the  approach  of  a  boat  invisible  to 
the  others,  he  made  a  turn,  and  disappeared  behind  the 
wing  of  the  chateau,  on  that  side  a  mass  of  ruins. 


68 


IHE    SHIELD   OF    THE    FLEUii-DE-LIS. 


CHATTER   V. 

FAREWELL   TO   DOMREMY. 

alone  together,  the  young  men  regarded 
each  other  seriously,  as  if  divining  a 
possible  difference,  and  girding  them 
selves  for  the  argument. 

"  If  it  were  true,"  began  Des  Ar- 
moises,  "  it  would  be  an  atonement  for 
the  cruelest  injustice  that  has  ever  been  done  to  our 
faith  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  virtue.  It  would 
reconcile  me  to  the  possibilities  of  life." 

"It  is  not  true,"  said  Jean  de  Metz  seriously. 
"  What   could  be  the  marshal's  object   in  inventing 
so  serious  a  deception,  and  one  so  easily  disproved?" 
asked  Robert. 

"  I  cannot  answer  for  that ;  but  he  is  like  his  father, 
the  devil.  To  speak  a  lie  is  easy  to  him.  You  do  not 
know  the  man  as  I  do." 

"  What  evil  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 
"The   sort  that  is  whispered  in   corners.     He  is  a 
powerful  nobleman  and  highly  connected  ;   he  is  rich, 
wellbred,  and  well  educated ;  he  can  write  Latin  like 


FAREWELL  TO   DOMREMY.  69 

a  priest.  He  keeps  a  choir  of  boys  educated  in  music 
at  his  expense  for  the  service  of  his  private  chapel, 
and  carries  them  in  his  train  when  he  is  to  be  long 
from  home.  He  endows  convents,  and  gives  rich  gifts 
to  the  church." 

"These  things  are  not  to  his  discredit,"  interposed 
Robert. 

"  But,"  continued  De  Metz  impressively,  "  they  say 
he  has  sold  his  soul  to  the  devil." 

Robert  laughed  heartily,  glad  of  an  occasion  for 
merriment;  but  nothing  could  move  his  companion's 
solemnity. 

"  I  hope  you  may  always  be  able  to  laugh,"  said  De 
Metz.  "  Most  of  those  who  meet  him  feel  the  effect 
of  liis  companionship  sooner  or  later  in  a  misfortune 
that  comes  they  know  not  how;  but  come  it  does, 
and  from  him." 

".Pardon  me,  my  friend,"  said  Des  Armoises ;  "but 
as  I  lack  your  previous  acquaintance  with  the  subject, 
I  am  unable  to  understand  the  ideas  which  may  sup 
ply  you  with  bridges  across  the  gaps  in  your  logic. 
As  it  appears  on  the  surface,  your  argument  has  no 
more  force  or  consistency  than  an  old  wife's  tale." 

"  You  may  ask  any  who  know  him,"  said  De  Metz. 
"  He  is  abhorred  and  feared.  They  say  the  vaults  of 
his  castles  could  reveal  terrible  secrets.  He  has  twice 
narrowly  escaped  the  accusation  of  murder." 


70  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"How  could  he  escape  if  guilty?"  asked  Robert. 

"  You  do  not  know  the  state  of  France,  or  you 
would  not  ask  that  question,"  said  De  Metz.  "  The 
great  nobles  are  like  robber  chieftains.  They  torture, 
kill,  exact  tribute,  pillage,  and  burn.  Their  own 
relatives,  father  or  brother,  are  sometimes  starved  or 
poisoned  within  their  walls.  People  speak  of  these 
crimes  with  bated  breath.  There  is  no  power  to  aid 
when  the  king  is  powerless  and  the  church  divided. 
France  has  slain  her  Messia*h,  and  she  must  endure 
the  sword." 

"This,  indeed,  is  serious  if  true,"  exclaimed  Robert; 
"but  it  furnishes  me  with  no  certain  reason  for  dis 
trusting  the  marshal's  story.  I  believe  that  Jeanne 
Dare  lives,  that  I  shall  meet  her,  and  vow  my  sword 
to  her  service.  That  would  give  an  object  to  my 
life,  which  at  present  it  sadly  lacks.  Did  you  ever 
love,  De  Metz,  and  suffer  betrayal  in  the  midst  of 
your  paradise?  " 

"  I  love  no  woman  but  my  sister,"  replied  Novelon- 
pont. 

"  Then  you  are  invulnerable,"  said  Robert.  "  Love 
alone  caa  debase  and  ensnare  the  will  of  a  man. 
Independent  of  that  foolish  passion,  he  is  a  reason 
able  being,  capable  of  fulfilling  the  conditions  of  his 
nature,  and  existing  in  harmony  with  the  ruling  will 
of  the  universe." 


FAKEWELL   TO   DOMREMY.  71 

"  You  talk  oddly  for  a  soldier,"  said  De  Metz. 

"  I  am  a  soldier,  as  any  gentleman  of  rank  must  be 
who  has  nothing  with  which  to  justify  his  useless 
existence  but  his  sword.  When  I  return  to  Metz  I 
suppose  I  shall  marry,  raise  a  family,  and  become  a 
peaceful  citizen  in  that  district.  I  own  a  castle  at 
Thichiemont." 

"It  is  near  my  ancestral  place,"  said  De  Metz. 
"My  sister  is  now  in  Metz  at  the  house  of  an  aunt. 
I  wish  that  you  might  see**her.  Eudeline  is  as  beauti 
ful  as  an  angel." 

"  Heaven  grant  I  may  meet  with  her,"  said  Robert. 

"  It  is  because  I  trust  you  that  I  have  named  her 
to  you,"  said  De  Metz.  "  I  can  see  that  you  are  dif 
ferent  from  most  young  men  of  your  station.  You 
would  not  wrong  a  woman." 

"  No,  by  Saint  Sophia,"  replied  Robert.  "  Not  even 
to  revenge  the  wrong  a  woman  has  done  me." 

"  Eudeline,  though  not  of  noble  birth,  is  worthy  of 
the  highest  alliance,"  continued  Novelonpont.  "She 
has  been  carefully  educated,  and  will  receive  a  rich 
dowry  from  the  aunt  she  lives  with." 

"God  send  her  a  good  husband,"  said  Robert. 
"  Seriously,  Novelonpont,  I  have  no  idea  of  marriage. 
I  mean  to  seek  this  Maid  of  France,  and  fight  under 
her  leadership.  I  contrive  to  enjoy  life,  for  I  am 
young;  but  I  should  not  feel  great  concern  if  I  knew 


72  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

that  the  next  day  that  dawned  was  to  be  my  last. 
There  is  a  deep,  unhealed  wound  within  my  heart." 

"Made  by  a  woman,  a  woman  will  be  able  to  heal 
it,"  replied  De  Metz.  "  But  do  not  count  on  meeting 
the  Maid  of  France  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  The 
marshal  cannot  raise  her  from  the  dead.  You  may 
be  sure  that  he  has  some  evil  purpose  to  serve  in  con 
triving  this  story." 

"  The  future  must  settle  that  question,"  said  Rob 
ert.  "  Do  you  ride  to-morrow  back  to  Vaucouleurs  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  shall  be  glad  of  your  company  so  far,  if 
it  suits  you,"  replied  De  Metz.  "  I  will  make  you  wel 
come  as  long  as  you  choose  in  my  quarters  there,  and 
perhaps  in  return  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  carry 
a  dispatch  to  my  sister." 

"With  all  the  pleasure  in  life,"  said  Robert. 

"  Then  we  part  to  meet  in  the  morning,"  said  De 
Metz,  rising.  "  Make  my  excuses  to  the  marshal,  if 
he  inquires  for  me.  My  spirits  suffer  from  being  so 
long  in  his  company.  A  night  spent  beneath  the  roof 
that  shelters  him  would  be  penance  to  me." 

They  parted  on  the  river-bank,  and  Des  Armoises 
returned  to  the  tower,  where  a  comfortable  bed  \vas 
prepared  for  him.  The  further  events  of  the  even 
ing  were  somewhat  confused  in  his  memory  of  them, 
Jean  Ribaut's  wine  proving  to  be  of  unusual  potency. 
There  was  more  of  David's  music,  light  ProvenQal  love- 


FAREWELL  TO   DOMREMY.  73 

songs  for-the  most  part;  and  the  marshal,  growing  gen 
ial  and  expansive,  told  much  gossip  of  the  court.  Des 
Armoises  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  a  picture  that  De 
Retz  had  drawn  of  a  new  court  beauty  with  wonder 
ful  blue  eyes  and  dazzling  shoulders,  which,  following 
the  latest  fashion,  she  exposed  with  a  freedom  which 
shocked  the  imagination  of  the  young  man,  trained 
in  the  decorous  customs  of  the  East.  He  had  lis 
tened  to  a  dramatic  account  of  the  scene  in  the  Castle 
of  Chinon  when  La  Trdmoille  was  betrayed  to  his 
enemies.  Gilles  de  Laval  recounted'  this  event  with 
the  glee  of  satisfied  hatred. 

"  The  great  man  was  in  his  bed,"  said  the  marshal, 
"when  Rosnieven  and  the  other  Bretons  came  upon 
him  with  drawn  swords.  Pouf !  and  Rosnieven  ran 
him  through  as  he  would  a  wild  boar  caught  at  an 
advantage ;  but  the  Sire  de  Beuil  interposed.  '  No 
more,'  he  said;  'my  uncle  surrenders  to  me.  He  is 
my  prisoner.  I  shall  be  answerable  for  his  safe  con 
duct.'  So  he  was  packed  off  to  Montre"sor  under  the 
very  eyes  of  the  king,  who  was  in  bed  in  the  next 
room,  and  kept  calling  out  piteously,  'Treason!  Mur 
der  !  To  the  rescue !  '  Charles  D'Anjou  had  taken 
pains  there  should  be  no  rescue;  for  the  doors  were 
locked  on  the  side  towards  the  post  of  the  guards, 
and  only  the  outer  postern  was  left  open  by  the  con 
trivance  of  the  governor.  Never  was  a  plot  so  well 


74  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

devised;  and  would  you  believe  it?  the  great  man's 

ribs   were   so   well   larded   with    fat,   that    the   sword 

\ 

thrust  that  would  have  been  mortal  for  another  did 
him  no  harm." 

Des  Armoises  slept  late,  and  awoke  from  dreams 
in  which  Jeanne  Dare  and  Agnes  Sorel  figured  inter 
changeably,  to  find  himself  alone  within  the  tower. 
The  marshal  and  his  company  had  departed.  Upon 
the  deal  table,  covered  with  half-emptied  flagons  and 
plates,  a  piece  of  paper  lay  with  a  jewelled  dagger 
thrust  through  it,  directing  the  eye  to  these  words: 
"  Rather  than  break  your  tardy  sleep,  I  leave  my  fare 
well  unsaid.  Accept  this  dagger  as  a  token  of  my 
friendship.  Let  it  be  a  reminder  of  my  promise  and 
of  yours  that  we  shall  meet,  if  God  wills,  when  the 
Pucelle  appears  in  Metz." 

Outside  the  sunshine  was  radiant  over  hill  and  val 
ley.  The  peasants  were  at  work  in  the  fields.  The 
smell  of  the  loam  freshly  turned  in  the  furrow  arose 
from  the  dewy  earth.  Near  the  inn  door  a  company 
of  idlers  stood  to  watch  the  second  departure  of  the 
morning.  Jean  de  Metz  sat  on  his  horse  as  motion 
less  as  a  sentinel  on  guard.  By  his  orders  the  Ara 
bian  had  been  saddled  and  bridled,  and  stood  awaiting 
its  masters  coming,  which  it  recognized  from  afar  by 
tossing  its  nose  with  a  shrill  whinny  of  welcome. 

"  I  am  ready,  as  I  promised,"  said  Jean  de  Metz  in 


FAREWELL   TO   DOMREMY.  75 

answer  to  Robert's  apologies,  "  but  I  am  in  no  haste. 
We  have  the  day  before  us,  and  I  am  as  easy  in  the 
saddle  as  on  a  cushioned  seat." 

Robert  protested  that  he  had  no  other  business  than 
to  settle  his  score,  which  he  presently  did,  refusing  the 
offers  of  refreshment  which  Marianne  and  her  husband 
pressed  upon  him ;  and  the  two  young  men  started  on 
their  journey,  accompanied  by  the  officious  Robin,  who 
bestrode  a  rawboned  horse  that  he  was  taking  to  pas 
ture,  and  hatless  and  coatless,  without  saddle  or  bridle, 
he  served  as  their  escort  till  they  were  well  out  of  the 
village.  The  jolting  of  his  steed  was  emphasized  by 
the  uneasy  motions  of  his  body,  and  the  position  of 
his  elbows  alternately  raised  to  the  level  of  his  ears 
and  depressed  against  his  sides ;  but  although  this  in 
terrupted,  it  did  not  check  the  flow  of  his  eloquence. 
He  begged  the  worshipful  gentlemen  to  remember  him 
if  an  occasion  presented  itself  when  a  trusty  man  was 
to  be  sought  for ;  he  was  conscious  of  a  soul  above  the 
drudgeries  of  his  station,  and  was  sure  that  if  his  merit 
were  rightly  known,  he  might  secure  a  place  as  squire 
or  armorer,  or  even  as  seneschal  of  a  castle.  If  Jeanne 
Dare  had  lived  he  had  had  hopes  of  rising  through  her 
influence. 

"  I  cannot  be  a  priest,  like  my  friend  Pierre  of  Toul, 
now  Ambrose,"  he  continued ;  "  for  I  have  it  not  in  me 
to  master  the  alphabet.  Some  men  are  born  with  a 


76  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

taste  for  letters,  others  for  arms.  But  why  should 
Pierre  rise  higher  than  I?  He  is  nothing  better  as  a 
man.  And  that  reminds  me  to  inquire  of  your  worship 
if  you  happen  to  know  why  he  went  last  night  at  dusk 
alone  in  a  boat  to  the  island?  and  why  he  met  the  lord 
marshal  there  and  talked  with  him  ?  " 

Des  Armoises  declared  his  ignorance  of  the  fact, 
which  somewhat  excited  his  curiosity.  "  The  marshal 
left  me  for  a  time  to  welcome  a  messenger,"  he  said  ; 
"  it  may  have  been  the  priest." 

"  It  has  an  ill  look,"  said  Robin ;  "  what  message 
should  he  have  for  a  great  lord?  Take  my  word  for 
it,  Father  Ambrose  has  something  on  his  conscience ; 
else  why  should  he  wear  an  iron  chain  for  penance 
beneath  his  clothes  ?  " 

"Does  he  so?  "  asked  Robert. 

"Ay;  I  saw  it  once  by  chance  when  he  threw  off 
his  frock  to  pull  out  my  cousin's  child  from  the  mill- 
pond,  where  it  was  like  to  drown,  —  a  heavy  iron 
chain  that  wore  the  flesh." 

"  Be  sure  he  is  a  holy  man,  who  is  as  far  above  thy 
comprehension  as  the  stars  of  heaven,"  said  De  Metz 
severely.  "  What  does  the  croaking  frog  know  of  the 
thrush's  song?" 

Des  Armoises  was  surprised  at  this  imaginative  utter 
ance  from  his  silent  companion.  "You  are  right,  De 
Metz,"  he  said.  "  Envy  has  always  a  carping  tongue. 


FAREWELL   TO   DOMREMY.  77 

You  will  not  recommend  yourself  to  either  of  us 
by  speaking  against  a  man  in  every  way  your  su 
perior,"  he  added  to  the  open-mouthed  Robin. 
"  Take  this  silver  piece  for  your  trouble,  and  leave 
us  here." 

Robin  dejectedly  obeyed,  for  he  had  reached  the 
open  field  where  his  errand  led  him.  The  gentlemen 
had  not  waited  to  hear  the  justification  of  his  position 
which  he  had  at  his  tongue's  end;  for  they  had  spurred 
their  horses,  and  were  in  a  moment  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  voice.  He  watched  them  pause  at  the  top  of 
a  hill  and  turn  to  look  behind  them,  as  if  bidding 
farewell  to  Domre'my;  then  descending  on  the  farther 
side,  they  were  soon  out  of  sight. 

The  hostler  took  the  halter  from  his  horse,  and 
watched  him  as  he  began  eagerly  to  crop  the  herbage. 

"  There  is  no  justice  in  this  world,  Dapple,"  he 
said.  "  It  is  the  fault  of  the  stars  we  are  born 
under.  Thou  art  a  raw-boned  cart-horse,  and  can 
never  serve  a  gentleman  as  does  that  pink-nostrilled 
foreigner,  that  could  not  draw  a  plough  or  do  any 
useful  work,  yet  is  promoted  and  daintily  served.  But 
I  do  not  feel  it  in  me  to  submit  as  contentedly  as 
thou  dost.  Perhaps  some  happy  turn  of  fortune  may 
place  me  yet  in  the  position  I  deserve." 

Cherishing  these  high  thoughts,  the  hostler  walked 
homeward,  swinging  in  his  hand  the  halter,  the 


78  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

release  from  which  Dapple  celebrated  by  rolling  over 
on  the  grass  with  all  his  hoofs  set  skyward,  every 
ambition  satisfied  in  present  contentment,  thus  illus 
trating  the  contrast  so  pointedly  drawn  by  Robin  to 
prove  the  innate  superiority  of  man. 


JEANNE   DARC    LIVES.  79 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JEANNE  DAKC   LIVES. 

INCE  it  had  first  gained  the  notice  of 
the  world,  Domre'my  had  been  swept 
at  various  times  by  tidal  waves  of 
emotion,  and  the  souls  of  its  inhabi 
tants  bore  traces  of  the  experiences 
they  had  gone  through,  as  rocks  show  the  course  of 
prehistoric  glaciers.  Sensitive  natures  like  Jacques 
Dare  were  crushed  and  overwhelmed ;  others  like 
Father  Ambrose  developed  a  tendency  to  religious 
ecstasy ;  but  the  greater  number  proved  themselves 
as  hard  and  coarse  as  they  had  been  before,  but  with 
a  new  greed  for  sensation,  and  an  overweening  sense 
of  their  own  importance  which  made  the  gossip  of 
the  village  firesides,  and  especially  of  the  inn  at  Greux, 
the  chief  relish  of  their  lives. 

The  news  of  the  outside  world  was  full  of  interest 
during  the  two  years  succeeding  the  visit  of  the  Mar 
shal  de  Retz.  The  treaty  of  Arras,  which  reconciled 
Burgundians  and  Dauphinois,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
long  civil  war,  was  celebrated  with  rejoicings  in  Lor- 


80  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

raiiie  and  Champagne,  as  it  was  in  all  the  provinces 
of  France.  None  but  statesmen  grumbled  that  the 
king  had  bought  peace  with  Duke  Philip  at  too  high 
a  price  by  humiliating  concessions  and  great  sacrifice 
of  estates  and  treasures.  Now  that  France  was  united, 
the  English  would  soon  be  driven  from  the  land ;  and 
when  in  the  spring  of  1436  Paris  opened  her  gates 
to  the  representatives  of  her  lawful  sovereign,  the 
people  remembered  the  promise  of  Jeanne  Dare  that 
"  a  greater  gage  than  Orleans "  should  be  given  to 
the  king. 

At  the  time  of  the  Council  of  Arras  the  Duke  of 
Bedford  died  in  the  castle  of  Rouen,  where  his  victim, 
the  Maid  of  France,  had  suffered  the  agony  of  her 
imprisonment.  Isabel  of  Bavaria,  too,  died  in  pov 
erty  and  humiliation ;  and  it  was  recalled  that  it  was 
she  who  had  shamefully  fulfilled  the  first  clause  of 
the  prophecy,  "A  woman  shall  betray  France,  and  a 
maid  shall  save  it." 

Thus  the  thought  of  Jeanne  Dare  was  in  the  air. 
In  the  hour  of  triumph  the  heart  of  France  turned 
with  yearning  to  the  memory  of  its  Messiah ;  and  as 
if  in  answer  to  the  appeal,  there  came  the  report, 
sounded  first  in  Lorraine,  and  echoed  with  tumultuous 
joy  in  Orleans,  "  Jeanne  Dare  lives  !  Another  suffered 
in  her  place  at  Rouen." 

To    the    circle    about    Jean    Ribaut's    hearth,  these 


JEANNE   DARC    LIVES.  81 

tidings  brought  an  intense  excitement,  which  sur 
passed  all  previous  sensations ;  but  it  was  news  of 
a  sort  which  could  not  be  discussed  within  four  walls. 
Those  who  heard  it  rushed  into  the  open  air  to  tell 
it  to  the  first  they  met,  and  to  inquire  for  more  assur 
ance  of  its  truth. 

No  less  a  messenger  than  Jean  du  Lis  had  brought 
the  news  from  Vaucouleurs ;  and  he  stood  in  the 
market-place  of  Domre'my,  his  horse  white  with  foam 
and  spent  with  fatigue,  the  centre  of  an  eager  crowd, 
to  whom  he  found  it  impossible  to  utter  another  word 
than  his  first  breathless  declaration. 

His  brother  Pierre  led  him  aside,  and  drew  from 
him  what  he  knew  of  this  amazing  piece  of  fortune,  too 
strange  to  be  true,  yet  too  well  authenticated  to  be 
denied.  There  were  those  who  had  seen  Jeanne  and 
had  spoken  to  her;  and  she  had  sent  word  to  her 
brothers  to  meet  her  in  the  city  of  Metz,  where  she 
was  at  present  residing. 

With  the  brothers,  the  most  important  considera 
tion  was  the  need  of  communicating  the  news  to 
their  mother.  Pierre  would  have  kept  it  from  her, 
fearing  the  shock  of  so  great  a  joy,  and  fall  of  un 
easy  doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  the  matter;  but  the 
clamorous  rejoicing  of  the  populace  was  not  to  be 
restrained.  Robin  climbed  into  the  belfry  of  the 
church  and  rang  the  bell,  which  had  been  given  by 


82  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

the  Duke  of  Lorraine  as  a  memorial  to  Jeanne,  so 
loudly  and  wildly  that  Isabel  flung  her  door  open 
to  inquire  the  cause  of  the  commotion. 

Jean  and  Pierre  hastened  into  the  cottage,  followed 
by  the  curious  eyes  of  all  Domremy.  Those  who 
pressed  nearest  to  the  door  heard  a  muffled  shriek ; 
and  Marianne  Ribaut,  from  a  point  of  vantage  on  an 
overturned  tub  by  the  casement  window,  called  out 
in  an  agitated  whisper,  "  She's  fallen  in  a  faint,  and 
they  are  undoing  her  bodice,  and  dashing  water  in 
her  face ;  but  old  Jacques  sits  still  in  his  chair  by 
the  fire,  and  does  not  look  nor  listen.  The  house 
might  fall  about  his  ears,  and  he  would  not  heed 
it." 

Pierre  shut  the  casement,  and  excluded  all  but  the 
nearest  relatives,  who  could  not  be  denied.  Durand 
Laxart,  his  uncle,  frantic  with  joy,  had  followed  Jean 
to  reinforce  his  statement.  Jeanne  Aubery,  the  god 
mother  of  Jeanne  Dare,  and  Aveline  Voyseul,  Isabel's 
sister,  had  left  their  household  work  undone  to  share 
the  rejoicing  of  the  family  of  Dare  as  they  had  shared 
its  mourning. 

Isabel  lay  white  and  motionless  upon  the  bed  where 
they  had  placed  her ;  but  her  eyes  turned  eagerly  upon 
each  speaker,  the  group  sitting,  as  she  insisted,  close 
beside  her,  so  that  she  could  catch  every  word  that 
was  spoken.  Little  by  little  excitement  overcame  her 


JEANNE   DARC   LIVES.  83 

dizzy  faintness ;  and  she  rose  with  Jean's  help,  and 
resumed  her  accustomed  seat  by  the  hearth,  where 
Jacques  had  remained  all  the  while  in  silent  quies 
cence. 

Isabel  cast  a  scornful  glance  at  the  bowed  figure  of 
her  husband.  "  He  knows  nothing  of  what  passes," 
she  said ;  "  well,  let  him  be.  It  may  be  best  for  him. 
I  thought  my  heart  would  burst  when  Jean  told  me ; 
and  Pierre  said,  '  Mother,  take  it  quietly.  It  may  not 
be  true ; '  and  with  that  I  fell  like  a  stone.  How  could 
you  say  that,  Pierre  ?  It  must  be  true." 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Durand  Laxart,  "my  girl,  my 
own  good  Jeanne,  would  have  escaped  the  flames  if 
there  was  a  God  in  heaven.  I  once  told  Father  Ful- 
bert  that  since  her  death  I  had  no  more  belief  left 
in  me  than  a  heathen  ;  and  he  bade  me  think  of  all 
the  martyrs,  and  do  penance  for  my  doubt." 

"  It  can  be  easily  determined,"  said  Aveline.  "  Jean 
and  "Pierre  must  set  out  at  once  for  Metz,  and  bring 
Jeanne  home;  or  if  she  is  too  busy  in  the  wars  to 
come  to  us,  bring  back  word  how  she  does  and  what 
she  says." 

"You  will  go,  will  you  not,  Pierre?  "  cried  Isabel. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  I  will  go  at  once,  and  make 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  mattgr  with  my  own  eyes." 

"  And  I  also,"  said  Jean ;  "  not  that  there  is  room 
for  doubt,  but  we  must  have  word  from  Jeanne's  own 
mouth  of  all  that  has  passed." 


84  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"What  are  ye  chattering  about,  idle  varlets,"  said 
old  Jacques,  looking  up  suddenly  from  his  revery. 
"There  are  the  cows  to  be  milked,  and  the  sheep 
to  be  tended.  No  one  works  now-a-days.  All  goes 
uncared  for.  It  was  jiot  so  when  I  was  able  to  be 
about.  Then  there  was  a  rod  for  the  back  of  the 
slothful,  and  he  who  idled  at  his  task  went  without 
supper.  To  work,  to  work,  every  one  of  you."  Say 
ing  this  with  a  threatening  glance  about  the  circle, 
he  leaned  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  which  were  folded 
upon  the  top  of  his  staff,  and  relapsed  once  more 
into  silence. 

"There  is  a  wreck  of  a  man,"  said  Jeanne  Aubery. 
"Yet  my  brother  is  ten  years  younger  than  I,  and 
I  never  thought  to  live  to  see  him  like  this.  But 
ever  since  Jeanne's  death  he  has  failed,  • — ah,  what 
am  I  saying?  Jeanne  is  not  dead.  How  do  you 
make  it  out,  Isabeau?  It  wearies  my  poor  old  brains 
to  puzzle  over  it.  If  my  namesake  and  god-daughter, 
Jeanne  Dare,  is  alive  and  in  the  flesh,  how  comes  it 
that  her  father  is  but  a  senseless  dotard  with  grief 
at  her  loss,  and  your  fine  son  Jacques  is  dead  of 
sorrow  ?  " 

"  Qh,  it  is  cruel,"  cried  Isabel  with  a  sudden  wail, 
"  to  think  that  Jacques  n*ed  not  have  died.  Oh,  Jean, 
think  of  that.  Why  was  it  so?  Why  could  we  not 
have  known?  In  all  these  five  years  was  there  no 


JEANNE   DARC   LIVES.  85 

way  thy  sister  could  have  sent  us  word,  only  a  word 
or  a  token  to  let  us  know  the  truth?  Reproach  her 
with  that  when  you  meet  her,  Jean,  and  let  her  know 
that  we  cannot  take  it  kindly  that  she  let  us  be  so 
deceived." 

"A  pack  of  silly  women,"  muttered  Durand  Laxart; 
"you  would  blame  Jeanne  for  what  you  have  suffered 
when  she  herself  has  suffered  tenfold.  No  doubt  she 
has  been  kept  strict  prisoner  these  five  years,  with 
no  way  given  her  by  which  she  could  send  the  smallest 
token  to  her  friends,  unless  she  could  get  a  bird  of 
the  air  to  carry  it.  I  know  my  Jeanne's  loyal  heart 
and  her  courage.  Fear  of  death  would  not  keep  her 
from  ye  if  she  had  been  free." 

"  Tis  true  !  "  cried  Isabel.  "  God's  judgment  light 
on  those  who  have  so  injured  her.  Who  were  they, 
according  to  your  opinion,  Durand?" 

"  Only  a  wise  man  can  unravel  the  politics  of  this 
sad  time ;  but  a  guess  may  hit  the  mark,"  he  answered. 
"The  Duke  of  Bedford  has  but  lately  died  in  the 
castle  of  Rouen,  and  at  the  same  time  Jeanne  is 
returned  to  us.  You  can  put  two  and  two  together 
as  well  as  I." 

Durand's  position  in  the  family  was  that  of  an  oracle 

•* 

on  all  questions  too  high  or  too  deep  for  common 
minds ;  since  it  was  he  who  had  believed  in  Jeanne 
when  all  others  doubted,  and  he  had  been  the  direct 


86  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

instrument  of  her  success.  Even  Pierre,  who  had 
fought  beside  his  sister  in  the  wars,  and  had  been 
made  prisoner  with  her  before  the  gates  of  CompiSgne, 
was  considered  inferior  to  his  uncle  in  the  retrospective 
judgment  of  the  affairs  in  which  he  had  borne  an  active 
part. 

.  After  Durand's  answer  the  three  women  sat  silent,  as 
if  they  found  the  subject  beyond  them.  Pierre  and 
Jean  were  talking  together  apart  from  the  rest.  Pres 
ently  Isabel  rose  with  tremulous  energy,  and  began 
to  make  preparations  for  her  sons'  departure 

"You  will  take  Jeanne  some  of  my  potted  cheese," 
she  said;  "and  I  wish  you  might  carry  her  some  of  the 
honey  mead  they  make  so  well  at  the  convent  on  the 
hill.  To  be  sure,  she  was  never  one  to  eat  or  drink ; 
dry  bread  or  black  pudding  was  all  the  same  to  her; 
and  on  Fridays  in  Lent  I  had  much  ado  to  make  her 
swallow  enough  for  health.  If  it  were  Catherine,  now, 
she  would  wish  for  the  best  in  the  house.  I  remember 
how  she  made  our  mouths  water  with  stories  of  the 
Duke's  table,  —  roast  peacocks  and  herons,  soups  of  all 
kinds,  pears  and  grapes  and  Orleans  marmalade,  with 
spiced  wine  as  free  as  water.  She  was  always  one  to 
enjoy  herself."  The  mother  heaved  a  sigh  of  regret, 
and  wiped  a  tear  with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  "Now 
that  I  have  Jeanne  back,  it  seems  as  if  I  must  have  the 
others,  Catherine  and  Jacques,  to  rejoice  with  me,"  she 
added. 


JEANNE  DARC   LIVES.  87 

"  Surely,  sister,  you  can't  expect  miracles  to  be  done 
for  you  alone,"  said  Aveline  scornfully.  "I've  buried 
three  children,  and  not  one  has  come  back  to  me." 

"Those  who  have  much  want  more,"  said  Durand. 
"  Isabeau  can  never  realize  how  the  matter  stands  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world.  Who  cares  for  Catherine  or 
Jacques  except  the  few  who  have  known  them?  All 
France  welcomes  Jeanne  Dare,  and  all  England  trem 
bles  before  her." 

Against  the  rhetoric  of  this  speech  Isabel  was  power 
less.  She  continued  packing  a  small  chest  with  the 
best  offerings  which  affection  could  suggest,  feeling  a 
bewildered  sense  of  her  own  insignificance  as  compared 
with  the  glory  and  greatness  of  her  child. 

When,  on  the  following  day,  her  sons  set  out  on  their 
journey,  the  yearning  of  the  mother's  heart  eclipsed 
all  other  considerations.  She  clung  to  Jean's  hand, 
detaining  him  while  she  gave  him  a  dozen  messages 
to  deliver.  "  Wait,  wait,  Jean !  "  she  cried.  "  Tell  her 
I  must  see  her.  I  will  walk  barefoot  to  Metz,  if  only  I 
can  see  her.  Why  did  I  not  plan  to  go  with  you  ?  It 
is  I  who  should  be  the  first  to  meet  my  child.  Tell  her 
I  must  come  to  her,  or  she  must  come  to  me.  Make 
her  return  with  you,  Pierre.  Do  not  leave  her  in  peace 
till  she  promises  to  come  to  me  first  of  all." 

Father  Fulbert  stopped  the  brothers  at  the  church 
door  to  give  them  his  blessing,  with  his  palsied  hands 


88  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

laid  upon  their  heads  as  they  knelt  before  him.  Tears 
streamed  from  the  old  man's  eyes. 

"Tell  Jeanne  that  I  am  going  fast,"  he  said;  "and 
that  I  can  depart  in  peace  and  joy  like  Simeon  if  my 
eyes  may  behold  her  once  more  before  I  die." 

Half  the  population  of  the  villages  followed  the  two 
as  they  started  on  their  way.  Robin  remained  until 
the  last,  walking  by  Pierre's  side  as  he  rode  slowly 
to  accept  the  farewell  greetings  of  his  friends. 

"  All  happens  by  the  will  of  God,"  said  Robin. 
"  One  is  taken  and  another  is  left.  You  are  noble 
gentlemen,  who  will  share  half  the  estates  of  France 
with  your  illustrious  sister  now  she's  alive  and  come 
to  her  own  again.  The  king  in  gratitude  can  do  no 
less  than  make  you  dukes  and  princes  or  marshals  of 
France,  while  I  must  remain  as  hostler  at  Greux.  If 
you  find  there  is  a  vacant  place  as  chamberlain  or 
seneschal,  or  any  station  that  is  dignified  and  with 
good  emoluments,  I  beg  you'll  use  your  influence  to 
get  it  for  me,  for  old  times'  sake." 

Jean  laughed  good-humoredly.  "  Our  greatness  is 
still  in  the  clouds,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  I  might  be  as  sure  of  my  supper  every 
day  as  you  are  of  the  king's  good-will,"  said  Robin ; 
"  then  I  might  sit  down  and  fold  my  hands.  Fare 
well,  Jean  and  Pierre.  Remind  your  sister  that  once 
when  she  was  a  child  I  carried  her  over  a  brook 


JEANNE   DAE.C    LIVES.  89 

that  she  need  not  wet  her  feet.  For  that  I  think 
she  should  in  gratitude  give  me  a  place  as  governor 
of  a  castle." 

When  the  brothers  had  ridden  onward  and  were  out 
of  sight,  Robin  muttered  to  himself,  "It  was  Cathe 
rine,  not  Jeanne,  I  carried  over  the  brook.  No  matter, 
if  the  story  will  serve  its  turn.  I  would  have  done  it 
as  willingly  for  Jeanne,  though  she  was  always  shy, 
and  held  herself  apart.  Well,  Robin,  thou  hast  not 
yet  come  into  a  fortune.  The  day's  work  is  still  un 
done,  and  I'll  wager  that  by  this  time  the  pigs  have 
broken  again  into  the  barley-field.  Mistress  will  be 
in  a  rage.  Well,  I  would  risk  more  than  that  for 
a  good  fat  place  at  court,  where  I  could  serve  the 
king  by  eating  and  drinking." 

"  Thank  God  we  are  rid  of  that  chattering  fool," 
said  Pierre,  when  their  road  turned  from  the  village 
and  plunged  into  the  forest.  As  he  spoke,  he  bared 
his  head  to  the  breeze,  which  stirred  the  hoary  branches 
of  the  oaks  and  set  their  young  leaves  quivering. 
The  sunbeams,  slanting  among  the  roughened  boles 
of  ancient  trees  and  the  slim  saplings  ranged  be 
tween,  sent  broken  shafts  of  light  across  the  road. 
The  horses'  hoofs  on  the  soft  wgt  earth  made  hardly 
noise  enough  to  scare  the  wild  creatures  of  the  wood 
that  peeped  and  rustled  in  leafy  coverts.  The 
freedom  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  exuberant  vitality 


90  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

of  the  springtime,  touched  Pierre's  spirit  with  a  sym 
pathetic  exhilaration,  and  relaxed  the  strain  of  his 
nerves. 

"I  am  glad  we  are  on  our  way,"  he  said.  "I 
have  not  eaten  nor  slept  since  we  heard  the  news. 
No  wonder  my  mother  frets  her  life  out,  shut  up 
within  the  four  walls  of  her  home.  Give  me  action 
and  movement,  a  horse  and  a  sword,  and  the  world 
before  me,  and  I  can  endure  everything." 

uYou  talk  as  if  our  errand  were  not  a  joyful  one," 
said  Jean. 

Pierre  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It's  a  fool's  errand  most  likely,"  he  said ;  "  but 
who  is  that  strange  figure  waiting  yonder  at  the  cross 
roads  ?  It  reminds  me  of  the  picture  of  Death  on 
horseback." 

The  junction  of  four  roads  was  marked  by  a  way 
side  shrine.  A  crucifix,  roughly  designed  and  crudely 
painted,  rose  out  of  the  violets  and  grasses  into  the 
transparent  air,  crossed  by  bird  flights  and  darting 
butterflies.  It  set  itself  as  a  contradiction  to  the 
scene  about  it,  for  nature  teaches  no  heavenly  truth; 
but  the  figure  on  horseback  was  even  more  a  discord 
ance  and  a  blot  on  the  landscape. 

Death  could  hardly  look  more  pale  and  gaunt  than 
the  human  form  whose  vitality  was  attested  by  the 
glowing  eyes  sunk  in  hollow  sockets,  and  shaded  by 


JEANNE  DARC   LIVES.  91 

the  cowl  of  a  friar's  mantle.  The  hands  that  held 
the  bridle  were  emaciated  and  transparently  white. 

"  It  is  Father  Ambrose,"  said  Jean  in  surprise ; 
and  both  young  men  mechanically  crossed  them 
selves. 

The  two  years  succeeding  the  village  festival  when 
he  had  addressed  the  people  of  Domre'my  had  brought 
to  Father  Ambrose  popularity  in  such  a  sort  that  he 
had  been  obliged  to  withdraw  from  public  contact  in 
order  to  escape  its  inconvenient  manifestations.  The 
report  of  his  asceticism,  and  the  intolerable  penances 
which  he  set  himself  to  perform,  had  gained  him  the 
commendation  of,  the  Archbishop  of  Toul,  and  the 
offer  of  the  richest  charge  within  his  diocese.  When 
the  young  priest  chose  instead  a  hermitage  in  an  in 
accessible  wilderness,  the  people  of  Greux  were  con 
tent  to  be  pastorless  that  they  might  have  the  honor 
of  claiming  for  their  nominal  head  a  saint  whose  oc 
casional  presence  at  the  high  festivals  of  the  church 
lent  them  a  fervor  of  mystical  devotion. 

Ambrose  of  Greux  bade  fair  to  rival  Jeanne  of 
Domremy.  A  miraculous  power  was  claimed  for  his 
touch.  Stories  of  his  visions  obtained  currency  in  dis 
tant  provinces. 

When  the  brothers  came  up  with  him  they  saluted 
the  priest  respectfully,  and  he  returned  the  greeting 
with  a  smile.  The  sudden  illumination  of  his  face 


92  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUH-DE-LIS. 

gave  it  for  the  time  a  likeness  to  his  former  self;  and 
the  tones  of  his  voice  had  the  old  melody  as  he  said, 
"  If  my  company  is  welcome,  I  will  join  you  on  your 
journey." 

"  What !  you  will  go  to  Metz  ?  "  exclaimed  Pierre. 

"  Yes.     To  welcome  your  sister." 

"  You  believe,  then,  that  it  is  Jeanne  ?  The  event 
seems  credible  to  you?"  urged  Pierre,  anxious  to 
silence  his  own  doubts  by  another's  assurance. 

Father  Ambrose  evaded  a  direct  reply.  "  When  we 
arrive  at  Toul,  I  shall  receive  special  dispatches,  the 
contents  of  which  I  will  make  known  to  you,"  he  said. 
"  They  relate  to  the  history  and  present  prospects  of 
Jeanne  du  Lis,  your  sister." 

"  By  Saint  Re'mi,  that  name  sounds  odd  in  my  ears," 
cried  Pierre.  "  The  world  will  not  know  Jeanne  Dare 
under  the  new  title  which  she  long  ago  refused." 

"Times  are  changed,"  answered  Father  Ambrose. 
"  You  will  greet  her  by  the  new  name." 

"But  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  matter,  father ?" 
asked  Jean.  "  What  is  your  explanation  of  her  long 
silence  and  sudden  reappearance  ?  " 

"  When  we  leave  Toul,  I  will  tell  you  all  that  I 
know,"  he  answered.  "  Till  then  conjecture  is  useless. 
Let  us  defer  the  discussion  of  the  subject." 

With  this  the  brothers  were  forced  to  content  them 
selves  ;  and  the  three  journeyed  amicably  together  dur- 


JEANNE   DARC    LIVES.  93 

ing  the  day,  the  priest  proving  a  pleasant  companion. 
He  showed  an  almost  childish  interest  in  the  scenes 
about  him,  and  a  modest  desire  to  win  the  confidence 
of  his  fellow  travellers,  not  as  their  spiritual  superior, 
but  as  one  of  their  own  age  and  station  thrown  by 
chance  into  a  temporary  intimacy  with  them. 

Something  of  the  whimsical  humor  of  Pierre  of  Toul 
appeared  in  his  conversation,  chastened  and  refined  by 
the  experiences  through  which  he  had  passed  as  through 
the  flame  of  a  furnace. 

Jean  and  Pierre  could  not  forget  that  this  young 
man  of  their  own  age  was  reported  to  bear  at  times  on 
his  person  the  stigmata  that  marked  his  likeness  to  the 
crucified  Christ.  They  could  not  throw  off  their  awe 
of  him,  unbend  as  he  might  in  encouragement  of  their 
friendship.  If  in  the  course  of  conversation  an  oath 
slipped  from  Pierre's  lips,  he  "felt  the  rebuke  which 
Ambrose  failed  to  administer  even  .by  a  look.  Jean 
was  conscious  of  derelictions  of  principle  which  never 
troubled  his  conscience  except  at  the  Eastertide  con 
fession  when  he  prepared  for  the  Mass. 

When  at  nightfall  they  made  a  resting-place  in  the 
forest,  Father  Ambrose  having  stipulated  that  the  stages 
of  their  journey  should  be  arranged  in  avoidance  of 
towns  or  hostelries,  the  brothers  lay  awake  in  awe- 
stricken  silence,  aware  that  their  companion,  who  had 
retired  to  a  distance,  was  keeping  a  vigil  of  prayer,  and 


94  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUIl-DE-LIS. 

accompanying  his  confessions  by  the  use  of  the  flagel 
lant's  whip. 

"  Horrible  !  "  whispered  Pierre.  "  I  wonder  how 
many  strokes  I  should  have  to  give  myself  to  square 
the  account  with  my  conscience,  if  such  a  holy  man 
deserves  so  much." 

A  sunny  morning  brought  them  within  sight  of 
Toul.  Its  housetops  and  chimneys  and  the  spires 
of  its  cathedral  were  visible  from  a  distance ;  and 
Ambrose,  leaning  forward  in  the  saddle,  gazed  with 
a  strained  vision. 

"  It  gleams  in  the  sun  like  the  city  of  the  New  Jeru 
salem,"  he  murmured.  "Just  so  I  saw  it  years  ago 
when  I  rode  in  the  pride  of  youth  along  this  path  with 
Jeanne  Dare  at  my  side."  He  pressed  his  hand  upon 
his  heart  with  a  gentle  sigh.  The  brothers  could  not 
know  that  with  the  movement  three  needle-shaped 
points  entered  the  flesh. 

"Thank  God!  we  shall  soon  reach  a  tavern,"  said 
Pierre.  "  The  heat  and  dust  have  dried  my  throat 
into  a  condition  of  intolerable  thirst.  Hasten  on, 
Jean,  to  the  Golden  Lion  just  within  the  gates,  and 
bespeak  the  best  in  the  house  in  advance  of  our  com 
ing.  My  horse  has  cast  a  shoe,  and  you  must  find 
me  a  farrier.  Meantime  I  must  travel  slowly  along 
these  cursed  stony  cart  tracks." 

"Your  orders,  noble  knight,  shall  be  obeyed,"  said 


JEANNE  DAKC  LIVES.  95 

Jean,  in  ironical  submission.  "  My  brother,"  he  added, 
"presumes  on  his  dignity.  He  is  a  belted  knight; 
and  I,  two  years  his  senior,  must  hold  his  stirrup  as 
his  squire.  It  is  another  instance  of  the  inequalities 
of  fortune  of  which  Robin  so  justly  complains.  What 
errand  shall  I  do  for  you,  father,  in  the  city  ?  " 

"I  was  about  to  give  you  a  commission,"  said  the 
priest.  "  I  do  not  mean  to  enter  the  gates.  Go  to 
the  palace  of  the  archdeacon  near  the  cathedral,  and 
inquire  for  a  packet  bearing  the  seal  of  the  Marshal 
de  Retz,  and  addressed  to  Ambrose  of  Greux.  It 
will  be  handed  you  without  question,  if  you  show 
this  cross  as  a  token."  He  detached  a  silver  crucifix 
from  his  girdle  as  he  spoke. 

"  Must  we  leave  you  alone  ?  "  asked  Pierrer  though 
reluctant  to  relinquish  his  visions  of  a  comfortable 
seat  at  an  inn  table  with  a  trim  damsel  in  attend 
ance. 

"I  will  seek  a  seat  in  the  shade  and  await  you 
here,"  replied  the  priest.  "I  have  a  scanty  mess 
of  oats  for  my  horse  left  in  the  saddlebag.  He  can 
better  his  dinner  by  cropping  the  grass  along  the 
road.  I  want  no  food  myself,  for  it  is  a  fast  to-day. 
Be  as  leisurely  as  you  please.  There  is  no  haste  in 
our  journey.  But  bring  me  the  packet  with  all  care 
and  safety." 

Jean  promised ;  and  $\e   brothers  took  leave,  Jean 


96  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

riding  in  haste,  while  Pierre  followed  at  the  easy  and 
dignified  gait  which  became  a  knight. 

Left  alone,  Ambrose  carefully  fed  his  horse,  led 
him  to  drink  at  a  brook,  and  tethered  him  by  the 
roadside ;  then  he  sought  a  secluded  spot  within  the 
grove  that  bordered  the  highway,  where  he  flung 
himself  upon  the  grass  at  the  foot  of  a  wide-spreading 
chestnut-tree. 

The  relaxation  of  his  weary  muscles  was  such  a 
solace  that  at  first  the  priest's  overstrained  scruples 
were  ready  to  oppose  the  indulgence ;  but  tired  nature 
asserted  its  claims,  and  he  remained  passive,  his 
mind  alone  alert  with  the  pitiless  energy  of  accusing 
thought. 

Birds  fluttered  from  bough  to  bough  within  reach 
of  his  hand.  Squirrels  darted  near  him,  unmindful 
of  his  presence.  Through  the  fresh  green  of  the 
foliage  he  watched  the  fleecy  clouds  sailing  from 
one  blue  haven  to  another  driven  by  a  celestial  im 
pulse. 

"All  moves  by  the  will  of  God,"  he  said,  "except 
the  motions  of  a  man's  soul.  A  hurricane  may  darken 
the  heavens,  the  creatures  of  the  wood  may  perish; 
but  on  the  morrow  the  sky  smiles  again,  and  the 
joy  of  earth  renews  itself.  Only  in  the  heart  does 
every  storm  of  passion  leave  irremediable  ruin  behind." 

He  groaned,  and  laid  his  aching  head  closer  to  the 
earth. 


JEANNE   DARC   LIVES.  97 

"O  Mother  Earth,  would  I  were  the  simplest  of 
thy  offspring,  part  of  the  teeming  life  which  thou 
dost  bring  forth  and  nourish  for  the  life  of  a  moment, 
a  gnat,  a  droning  fly,  a  cobweb,  a  mote  in  the  sun 
beam,  and  then  nothing  forevermore.  Oh,  the  sweet 
ness  of  oblivion,  the  sinking  into  and  being  ingulfed 
by  that  vast  ocean,  thought  at  rest,  soul  and  body 
liberated,  hell's  torments  and  heaven's  joys  alike  in 
different. —  Sinful  thoughts,  to  be  added  to  my  load 
of  sin." 

He  groaned,  and  then  lay  silent  with  closed  eyes. 
In  a  moment  he  was  in  the  spirit,  entranced  above 
time  and  place. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  sea  of  light,  part  of 
which  came  from  above  and  was  heatless  and  lam 
bent  as  moonshine,  but  with  a  greater  brilliancy ;  and 
part  from  below,  with  the  glare  and  scorching  breath 
of  a  furnace.  After  a  time  he  was  able  to  discern 
the  shapes  of  the  blessed  above,  and  far  beneath,  the 
forms  of  those  who  writhed  in  the  flames  of  hell. 
He  avoided  the  sight  of  the  latter,  and  turned  his 
eyes  heavenward,  but  without  discerning  more  than 
dim  outlines  of  those  who  walked  in  a  radiance  that 
dazzled  his  eyes  and  prevented  his  seeing  any  object 
clearly. 

Soon  he  was  aware  that  the  level  where  he  stood 
stretched  out  in  a  billowy  surface  like  the  tops  of 


98  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

summer  clouds;  and  at  his  feet  he  saw  a  number  of 
men  and  women  wrapped  in  white  garments  like 
grave-clothes,  and  lying  motionless  in  slumber  except 
for  the  regular  breathing,  which  was  like  that  of  a 
child  in  its  cradle. 

"Who  are  these?"  he  asked;  and  a  familiar 
presence  answered,  "  They  are  those  who  have  lost 
heaven  because  they  have  sinned,  yet  have  not 
deserved  punishment  because  they  gave  themselves 
for  others.  They  sleep,  and  know  not  grief  nor  pain. 
They  will  awake  only  at  the  judgment." 

"And  after  that?"  he  cried. 

"  They  will  be  blown  out  like  the  flame  of  a  candle," 
said  the  voice. 

Ambrose  felt  his  tears  upon  his  cheeks.  "  It  is 
what  I  have  prayed  for,"  he  said.  "But  oh,  Jeanne, 
I  hear  your  voice  !  Why  can  I  no  longer  see  your 
face  in  visions?" 

"The  heavenly  vision  is  not  for  those  who  sleep," 
was  the  answer. 

Ambrose  awoke.  The  dull  light  of  day  was  about 
him.  The  dusty  road  stretched  like  a  white  chalk- 
mark  between  the  fence  rows  and  thickets ;  and  along 
it  a  line  of  pack-mules  were  being  driven,  laden  with 
merchandise,  while  their  owners  filled  the  air  with 
noisy  talk,  oaths,  and  idle  songs. 

He  was  conscious  of   an  overpowering   craving   for 


JEANNE   DAEC   LIVES.  99 

food.  The  scattered  oats  in  the  bottom  of  the  saddle 
bag  tempted  him.  The  sight  of  a  coarse  wheaten 
loaf,  broken  and  munched  by  a  couple  of  children 
who  were  carrying  bundles  of  fagots,  filled  him  with 
physical  longing. 

"I  can  resist  no  longer,"  he  said;  "my  fast  may 
well  end  at  noon ; ' '  and  he  gave  one  of  the  children 
a  piece  of  money  for  the  half  of  the  loaf  which 
remained.  This  he  ate  with  a  voracity  which  shamed 
his  delicacy. 

"  We  are  beasts  on  one  side  of  our  nature,  fallen 
angels  on  the  other,"  he  said,  preparing  to  saddle  his 
horse. 

A  company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  returning  from 
a  hunt  rode  by,  and  stared  at  the  lonely  priest  with 
a  disordered  cowl  and  a  bridle  hung  over  his  arm. 

"  Too  much  drinking  in  taverns,  good  father,  has 
inconveniently  approximated  your  vespers  and  matins," 
called  out  one  of  the  party;  and  the  ladies  laughed 
at  the  witticism,  as  they  rode  on  and  disappeared  in 
a  cloud  of  dust. 


100  THE   SHIELD   OF  THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION. 

'EAN  and  Pierre  returned  from  the  city 
early  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  trav 
ellers  pursued  their  way  until  sunset, 
when  they  halted  for  the  night  in  a 
spot  which  Ambrose  had  selected  for 
their  bivouac.  Every  road  and  byway 
within  a  day's  journey  of  Toul  was  familiar  to  him ; 
and  his  thoughts  had  dwelt  from  the  start  upon  a 
certain  sloping  hillside  bounded  by  a  brook  which 
crossed  the  road  to  fall  into  a  mill-pond  and  turn  a 
creaking  wheel. 

Only  this  noise  betrayed  the  neighborhood  of 
human  industry ;  but  from  a  turning  in  the  path 
where  the  trees  receded  to  form  an  open  glade,  a 
distant  view  of  Toul  could  be  had. 

"  This  is  a  place  which  I  have  loved  from  child 
hood,"  said  Ambrose.  "  It  is  connected  with  many 
of  the  important  events  of  my  life,  if  thoughts  and 
emotions,  and  moods  of  intense  feeling,  are  to  be 
accounted  events.  I  have  chosen  it,  therefore,  as 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  101 

the   scene    of   a   confession   which  I   am   to  make  to 

you." 

"You  confess  to  us!"  cried  Jean  and  Pierre  in  a 
breath ;  and  the  former  added,  "  When  I  got  the 
packet  from  the  archdeacon,  he  came  himself  to  put 
it  into  my  hands,  and  asked  me  more  than  a  dozen 
times  where  the  holy  Ambrose  was  to  be  found,  and 
why  he  did  not  come  himself  to  the  palace  that  he 
and  my  lord  bishop  and  the  rest  might  kiss  his  robe 
and  ask  his  blessing." 

Ambrose  looked  up  in  frowning  protest.  "The 
journey  I  take  is  not  for  my  honor,"  he  said.  "  After 
this  day  there  will  be  two  upon  earth,  Pierre  and 
Jean  du  Lis,  who  know  me  as  I  am,  a  lost  and  mis 
erable  sinner." 

His  listeners  stared  aghast. 

"  Sit  down  at  ease,"  he  said :  "  the  story  is  a  long 
one,  and  how  hard  to  put  into  words,  God  only  knows. 
I  must  tell  you  that  as  men  judge,  I  have  committed 
no  mortal  sin,  no  act  of  villainy,  no  premeditated 
crime.  Penance  and  prayer  have  absolved  me  from 
the  faults  of  a  wild  and  headstrong  youth.  They  are 
not  those  that  most  vex  my  conscience.  But  errors 
of  judgment,  weaknesses  of  will,  the  idolatries  of  self- 
seeking,  may  plunge  a  man  into  the-  lowest  hell  be 
fore  he  knows  his  danger.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  listen  in  silence,  and  that  you  will  not  quit 
this  spot  till  I  give  you  leave." 


102  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

The  brothers  promised,  full  of  an  awe-struck  curi 
osity. 

"All  the  world  knows  that  I  loved  Jeanne  Dare, 
and  sought  to  wed  her  against  her  will  and  contrary 
to  her  vow,"  began  Ambrose.  "  For  that  sin  I  do 
daily  penance ;  but  two  only  know  that  after  her 
death  I  loved  and  sought  to  wed  her  sister  Catherine." 

Jean  and  Pierre  started  with  exclamations  of  sur 
prise. 

"  It  is  a  shameful  thing,"  continued  Ambrose  in  a 
monotonous  voice,  "  to  so  soon  replace  one  affection 
by  another,  yet  men  have  done  it  without  shame. 
It  was  my  fate  to  be  forever  at  odds  with  the  ordi 
nary  conditions  of  life.  First  I  must  set  my  passion 
at  war  with  Jeanne's  vow,  and  suffer  defeat  and  God's 
judgment  against  me.  Next  I  must  discover  that  I 
loved  Catherine  more  madly  than  ever  I  loved  Jeanne, 
only  after  I  had  adopted  the  robe  of  a  novice,  and 
promised  myself  to  the  priesthood." 

He  paused,  and  drew  his  hand  across  his  brow 
where  drops  of  sweat  were  starting.  The  condemna 
tion  which  he  knew  to  await  each  disclosure  was  tor 
ture  to  his  sensitive  spirit.  He  did  not  dare  to  meet 
the  eyes  that  watched  him  now  with  the  keenness  of 
aroused  personal  consciousness  foreseeing  an  affront. 

"  Catherine  was  like  Jeanne  in  looks,"  he  continued ; 
"  almost  her  very  image  ;  but  in  her  ways  she  was 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  103 

a  being  of  another  world.  She  had  learned  many 
of  the  arts  of  the  great  ladies  at  Nancy ;  and  she 
practiced  them  on  me,  on  Robin  at  the  inn,  on  any 
man  that  crossed  her  path,  but  all  with  dignity  and 
high  disdain,  as  who  should  say,  *  You  may  love  me 
from  afar.'  This  is  a  challenge  to  a  man's  spirit,  if 
he  be  such  a  man  as  I  was.  I  followed  her  to  Nancy, 
exchanging  my  monkish  habit  for  the  richest  suit  I 
could  afford.  I  hung  about  the  castle,  cringed,  sued, 
suffered  rebuffs,  to  be  rewarded  sometimes  by  a  meet 
ing  when  she  could  steal  a  moment  from  her  task; 
but  she  would  at  no  time  give  me  any  other  assur 
ance  of  her  affection  than  the  doubtful  declaration 
that  if  I  had  not  been  born  the  son  of  a  cobbler  she 
might  have  cared  for  me.  Meantime  my  pursuit  of 
the  duchess's  waiting-maid  was  talked  about  among 
the  servants,  until  it  reached  the  ears  of  the  guests 
of  the  castle ;  and  in  an  unlucky  hour  this  idle  chat 
ter  drew  upon  Catherine  the  notice  of  a  nobleman 
who  had  come  on  a  mission  for  the  king  to  Duke 
Charles.  This  was  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  whom  you 
have  seen. 

"  Catherine  told  me  that  he  had  declared  to  her 
that  she  was  the  very  likeness  of  her  sister  Jeanne, 
in  whose  company  he  had  entered  Orleans;  and  for 
the  sake  of  Jeanne's  memory  he  had  offered  her  a 
place  to  attend  upon  his  wife  at  a  high  salary  if  she 


104  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

would  leave  Nancy,  and  go  with  him  to  Brittany. 
I  warned  her  what  such  offers  might  mean,  and  she 
promised  not  to  listen  to  them. 

"  One  morning  Catherine  was  missing.  It  was  re 
ported  that  she  was  drowned  in  the  river.  I  went 
to  the  marshal,  and  accused  him  openly  of  some  vil 
lainy.  He  laughed  at  me,  and  ordered  me  home  to 
my  convent.  Later  he  came  to  me  in  secret,  and 
told  me  a  story  stranger  than  my  wildest  imaginings. 
I  refused  to  credit  him  ;  and  he  left  me  in  anger,  prom 
ising  that  some  day  I  would  be  glad  to  act  as  his 
coadjutor.  He  threatened  at  the  same  time  that  if 
I  revealed  his  connection  with  the  affair  he  would 
accuse  me  of  Catherine's  murder,  bringing  one  of 
his  servants  to  witness  that  I  had  been  seen  with 
her  near  the  river  on  the  day  of  her  disappearance. 
I  went  home  to  Domre"my  stricken  at  heart.  I  be 
came  a  priest.  I  mortified  the  flesh.  I  lived  as  you 
know.  But  Catherine's  fate  was  never  for  a  moment 
absent  from  my  thoughts. 

"  On  the  day  of  the  May  festival  I  once  more  saw 
the  Marshal  de  Retz ;  and  that  night  I  talked  with  him 
in  secret ;  and  again  he  told  me  of  the  plan  by  which  he 
meant  to  secure  the  king's  renown,  France's  glory,  his 
own  reputation,  and  deliverance  from  pressing  charges 
devised  by  his  enemies  for  his  discredit.  All  this  was 
to  be  accomplished,  as  you  may  have  guessed,  by  the 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  105 

substitution  of   Catherine  Dare  in  the  place  and  with 
the  character  of  her  sister  Jeanne." 

Pierre  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  mighty  oath. 

"  Patience,''  urged  Ambrose.  "  Let  me  finish  unin 
terrupted  as  you  promised.  The  marshal  swore  to  me 
upon  the  most  sacred  relics  that  Catherine's  position 
while  in  his  castle  had  been  that  of  an  honored  guest ; 
and  that  during  the  two  years  which  she  had  spent  in 
a  convent,  she  had  been  treated  with  the  distinction 
that  would  have  been  accorded  to  Jeanne  herself.  The 
dispatches  which  awaited  me  in  Toul  announce  the 
appearance  of  the  false  Jeanne  at  Metz." 

He  unrolled  the  sheets  of  manuscript,  and  translated 
from  the  Latin  in  which  language  they  were  written, 
the  following  sentences :  "  It  is  necessary  that  the 
brothers  of  Jeanne  should  openly  acknowledge  her. 
No  skepticism  could  oppose  itself  to  such  a  triumph 
ant  vindication  of  her  claims." 

"Death  and  damnation!"  cried  Pierre.  "Do  you 
expect  us  to  lend  ourselves  to  such  a  dishonorable 
scheme  ?  No,  by  Saint  Re*mi ;  a  thousand  times  no. 
I  will  denounce  the  imposture  and  the  authors  of  it. 
The  marshal  shall  answer  before  the  highest  court  in 
the  realm  for  his  detention  of  my  sister  these  two  years 
against  her  will." 

"  Listen,"  said  Ambrose.  "  The  marshal  is  a  man 
who  stops  at  nothing.  He  writes  that  a  company  of 


106  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUli-DE-LIS. 

soldiers  are  to  lie  in  ambush  on  our  road  to  Metz,  and 
that  we  pass  safely  only  on  my  giving  the  signal  agreed 
upon  in  the  event  of  your  acquiescence." 

"Your  warning  defeats  his  purpose,"  said  Pierre 
with  a  harsh  laugh.  "We  need  not  continue  our 
journey  to  Metz." 

"  Moreover,"  added  Ambrose,  "  he  declares  that  your 
sister's  safety  is  contingent  upon  your  decision." 

"  That  is  a  straw  in  the  balance  against  my  honor," 
said  Pierre. 

"Why,  no  honor  is  lost,  if  we  welcome  Catherine  as 
our  sister,"  said  Jean.  "  She  is  surely  that ;  and  right 
glad  I  should  be  to  see  her  again.  I  loved  her  as  well 
as  Jeanne ;  better,  perhaps.  We  owe  it  to  her  to  de 
liver  her  from  the  power  of  this  wicked  man." 

"  That  we  shall  do  by  rousing  all  France  to  help  us 
cry  shame  upon  the  marshal,"  said  Pierre. 

"  You  will  not  live  to  do  it,"  said  Ambrose.  "  He 
threatens  more  than  I  have  told." 

"Perhaps  he  has  hired  you  to  put  poison  in  our  meat 
and  drink,"  said  Pierre.  "  Since  you  speak  as  his 
mouthpiece,  you  are  no  doubt  in  all  things  his  willing 
tool." 

"Willing?"  said  Ambrose,  "ah,  how  unwilling;  but 
I  bow  to  the  power  of  necessity.  My  own  honor,  hap 
piness,  salvation  even,  must  be  imperilled  to  pay  the 
debt  I  owe  to  Catherine." 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  107 

"  Be  reasonable,  Pierre,"  urged  Jean.  "  Consider  if 
you  have  a  right  to  plunge  our  mother  into  further 
distress." 

"  Why,  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  asked  Pierre, 
turning  angrily  upon  his  brother. 

"  Wait,  and  be  patient,"  answered  Jean.  "  At  any 
moment  it  will  be  in  our  power  to  expose  the  marshal's 
design;  and  we  can  do  this  the  better  when  we  are 
more  familiar  with  his  plans.  It  will  not  do  to  oppose 
our  ignorance  to  his  settled  purpose.  That  would  be 
to  fight  unarmed,  and  in  the  dark ;  but  if  by  appear 
ing  to  yield,  we  throw  him  off  his  guard,  we  shall  be 
in  a  better  position  to  attack  him  later." 

"You  forget,"  said  Pierre,  with  scornful  emphasis, 
"  that  you  speak  in  the  hearing  of  a  hired  spy,  who 
is  ready  to  deliver  our  lives  into  the  marshal's, 
hands." 

"  I  deserve  your  scorn,  but  not  your  suspicion," 
said  Ambrose  meekly.  "It  is  not  for  money  that  I 
risk  my  soul.  Catherine's  happiness  is  the  sole  object 
of  my  life.  I  am  the  unhappy  cause  of  every  hour 
of  grief  that  she  has  suffered.  No  reparation  is  too 
great  for  me  to  make." 

"  We  owe  her  something  also,  do  we  not?"  asked 
Jean,  "and  something  to  our  mother,  who  would  die 
from  such  a  disappointment." 

Pierre    strode   up   and   down    in   moody    reflection. 


108  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"Say  what  you  may,  I  cannot  tarnish  my  honor  as 
a  knight  and  a  man  by  descending  to  the  infamy  to 
which  our  friend  the  priest  finds  it  easy  to  reconcile 
his  conscience,"  he  declared. 

Ambrose  sighed  heavily.  "  I  struggled  Avith  all  the 
power  of  my  soul,"  he  said.  "If  there  were  a  way 
of  escape  I  should  have  found  it." 

"A  priest  is  only  half  a  man,"  said  Pierre.  "  It 
was  a  soldier  who  cut  the  knot  that  no  one  else 
could  undo.  Because  you  are  frightened  by  this 
man's  threats  I  need  not  be." 

"  You  do  not  know  the  marshal,"  said  Ambrose 
wearily.  "No  one  whose  heart  is  pure  can  realize  the 
depths  of  evil  of  which  the  human  soul  is  capable, 
or  the  strength  of  Satan's  hosts  when  they  are  op 
posed  only  by  the  feeble  will  of  man." 

"  Of  what  use  are  your  prayers  ? "  asked  Pierre 
tauntingly.  "  If  they  cannot  help  you,  the  offices 
of  the  church  must  be  a  mockery." 

"Spare  me,"  pleaded  Ambrose.  "Do  not  make  my 
sin  an  argument  against  the  estate  from  which  I 
have  fallen.  Let  not  man's  evil  cast  discredit  upon 
God's  goodness.  '  For  thou  continuest  holy,  O  thou 
Worship  of  Israel.'  ' 

He  raised  his  eyes,  while  his  wan  face  shone  for 
the  moment  with  a  light  of  self-forgetful  devotion. 

"  You   are   a   strange    man,    Ambrose,"  said  Pierre. 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  109 

"I  know  not  whether  you  are  a  saint  or  a  devil. 
Tell  me  what  you  mean  to  do  in  Metz." 

"I  shall  devote  my  life  to  the  service  of  Jeanne 
du  Lis,"  he  replied.  "Catherine  Dare  will  be  known 
henceforth  by, that  name.  I  will  be  her  friend,  coun 
sellor,  and  spiritual  adviser.  The  remorse  that  she 
might  suffer  shall  be  mine.  I  will  do  penance  to 
atone  for  her  fault  against  the  truth." 

"  But  are  you  so  dull  as  to  fancy  that  this  absurd 
imposture  can  for  a  moment  succeed?"  asked  Pierre; 
"not  one  in  ten  will  be  deceived  by  a  false  Jeanne 
Dare." 

"Then  mine  shall  be  the  infamy  of  detection  when 
it  comes,"  said  Ambrose.  "She  must  not  be  blamed 
except  as  the  tool  of  others.  I  will  stand  between 
her  and  all  the  ills  of  her  strange,  unnatural  position." 

"  You  love  her  still,  false  priest  that  you  are," 
cried  Pierre. 

"Ah,  not  in  the  old  way,"  answered  Ambrose. 
"The  fires  of  earthly  passion  will  never  again  burn 
in  the  dead  cinder  that  is  my  heart.  I  love  her  as 
a  father  does  his  child." 

Pierre  disdained  further  conversation,  and  retiring 
to  a  distance  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak,  and 
slept  or  pretended  slumber ;  while  Jean,  full  of  a  rest 
less  curiosity,  asked  the  priest  a  hundred  questions 
concerning  the  strange  events  which  he  had  related. 


110  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Ambrose  submitted  to  the  interrogation,  but  his 
answers  were  vague  and  unsatisfying.  Like  Pierre, 
he  was  absorbed  by  a  secret  preoccupation ;  and  soon 
he  excused  himself,  and  stole  away  into  the  deeper 
recesses  of  the  woods. 

"  Pierre,"  said  Jean,  flinging  himself  down  beside 
his  brother,  "tell  me  what  you  are  plotting  and  plan 
ning  so  silently.  What  is  it  you  mean  to  do?" 

Pierre  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  placed 
his  mouth  close  to  his  brother's  ear. 

"  I  shall  have  revenge  upon  the  Marshal  de  Retz," 
he  answered,  "  and  rather  than  allow  Jeanne's  fame 
to  suffer  traducing,  I  will  kill  Catherine  with  my 
own  hands." 

"  That  would  be  to  choose  one  evil  for  another," 
replied  Jean.  "  How  would  it  serve  Jeanne's  fame  if 
the  noble  knight,  Pierre  du  Lis,  should  be  executed 
as  a  murderer,  after  exposing  his  sister  as  an  impos 
tor,  and  bringing  eternal  infamy  upon  his  name  and 
hers?" 

Pierre  sighed  impatiently,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  I  have  no  sympathy  for  those  who  run  full  tilt 
at  everything  that  opposes  their  fancy,  like  a  mad 
bull  at  a  rag,"  said  Jean.  "  A  wise  man  takes  the 
world  as  he  finds  it.  Let  Catherine  and  the  marshal 
divide  between  them  the  guilt  of  the  imposture ;  and 
let  it  be  our  part  to  save  what  vestige  of  credit 


FATHER  AMBROSE'S  CONFESSION.  Ill 

there  may  remain  to  our  family  out  of  a  ruinous  sit 
uation." 

"  'Po  palter  with  disgrace  is  to  share  it,"  said  Pierre. 

"It  is  not  disgrace,  if  known  only  to  yourself," 
answered  Jean.  "  At  present  the  country  is  ringing 
with  Jeanne's  praises.  The  tide  of  popular  favor  runs 
so  strong  that  it  will  force  the  Pope  to  grant  rep 
aration  for  the  church's  sentence  against  her,  and  re 
habilitation  of  her  fame.  A  living  Jeanne  will  have 
more  power  than  a  dead  one.  If  sentence  was  not 
executed  against  her,  it  was  because  it  was  not 
rightly  confirmed,  so  it  will  seem.  As  for  the  result 
of  the  matter,  leave  it  to  those  who  are  responsible 
for  it.  We  need  not  meddle  with  it." 

"The  result  will  be  shame  and  dishonor,  reason  it 
how  you  will,"  groaned  Pierre. 

"  I  do  not  know  that,"  said  Jean.  "  Let  us  hope 
for  the  best." 

"  There  have  been  pretenders  known  before  in  the 
world's  history,"  said  Pierre,  "  but  never  one  that 
was  not  exposed." 

"Do  not,  at  any  rate,  hasten  the  inevitable,"  replied 
Jean.  "  A  good  knight  bides  his  time,  and  does 
nothing  with  a  rashness  that  offers  advantage  to  the 
enemy." 

"  Your  voice  is  like  that  of  the  tempter  in  my 
ears,"  cried  Pierre  impatiently.  "  Take  yourself  off, 
and  leave  me  in  peace." 


112  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE  FL,EUK-DE-LIS. 

"  Not  until  you  promise  me  to  be  prudent,"  an 
swered  his  brother.  "Acknowledge  the  false  Jeanne 
as  your  sister,  and  await  the  result." 

Pierre  muttered  an  oath,  pulled  his  hat  over  his 
eyes,  buried  his  head  upon  his  arms,  and  remained 
silent. 

"  Peace  to  your  dreams,"  said  Jean.  "  I  will  go 
bid  Father  Ambrose  pray  that  you  may  be  led  into 
a  more  reasonable  state  of  mind." 


RECOGNITION.  113 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

RECOGNITION. 

RLEANS  was  in  a  tumult  of  rejoicing; 
and,  jealous  that  Metz  should  first 
enjoy  the  honor  of  Jeanne's  presence, 
sent  poursuivants  in  hot  haste  to  urge 
her  immediate  return  to  the  city 
which  cherished  the  most  intense  devotion  to  her 
memory,  and  where  the  news  of  her  reappearance 
had  awakened  boundless  enthusiasm.  In  the  churches 
throngs  of  worshippers  gave  thanks  for  the  marvellous 
deliverance  wrought  by  the  hand  of  God.  Work  was 
suspended  throughout  the  city;  and  the  doors  of  the 
chamber  where  the  council  held  protracted  meetings 
were  besieged  by  eager  crowds  seeking  information, 
which  none  could  give,  as  to  the  particulars  of  the 
wonderful  event. 

In  other  cities  of  France  triumphal  processions  and 
services  of  rejoicing  were  held.  The  soldiers  in  camp 
and  field  once  more  felt  themselves  invulnerable,  as 
if  led  by  the  sheltering  pillar  of  fire,  which  on  the 
side  of  their  enemies  became  a  cloud  of  darkness. 


114  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

The  English  felt  the  sudden  presage  of  defeat  which 
had  so  often  seized  them  with  panic  fear  when  they 
had  beheld  in  the  distance  the  gleaming  banner  of 
the  Maid. 

La  Tremoille,  in  his  exile,  learned  of  Jeanne's  resur 
rection,  and  felt  that  he  had  not  yet  known  the  keenest 
irony  of  fate. 

Jean  de  Ligny  heard  the  news  ;  and  in  the  depths  of 
his  recreant  soul  he  hoped  it  might  be  true,  and  that 
the  stain  upon  his  name  might  henceforth  be  forgotten. 

Richemont  and  Dunois  and  other  honest  hearts  re 
joiced. 

La  Hire,  the  Ecorcheur,  soldier  and  marauder,  swore 
one  of  his  furious  oaths  to  prove  his  satisfaction. 

What  Charles,  the  king,  thought  and  felt  when  the 
tidings  reached  his  ears,  none  knew  unless  it  were  the 
Marshal  de  Retz  who  carried  the  news  to  Loches. 
The  king  was  busily  engaged  in  designing  a  new 
parterre  for  his  castle.  He  talked  much  of  landscape 
gardening.  Duke  Rene*  had  lately  sent  him  a  dozen 
new  varieties  of  roses. 

Queen  Yolande  received  the  report  with  pleasure, 
though  she  wondered  what  would  be  the  result  of  a 
new  element  introduced  at  this  time  into  the  maze  of 
court  policy.  Agnes  Sorel  protested  with  lively  grati 
fication  that  the  miracle  had  been  wrought  for  her 
especial  benefit,  since  it  had  always  seemed  to  her 


RECOGNITION.  115 

that  she  had  lost  the  three  best  years  of  her  life  by 
coming  to  court  too  late  to  meet  the  heroine  of  France. 
She  sent  Jeanne  a  medal  which  had  hung  upon  her 
own  white  neck;  and  the  dowager  of  Sicily  sent  a 
golden  chain.  Queen  Marie,  like  her  husband,  com 
mitted  herself  to  nothing ;  but,  as  usual,  no  one  thought 
to  ask  her  opinion. 

De  Retz  was  content  that  the  king  had  given  him 
a  full-blown  rose  as  a  token  of  favor.  Charles  D'Anjou, 
in  evidence  of  a  happy  turn  in  his  fortunes,  showed  the 
marshal  an  accusatory  letter  from  the  Bishop  of  Nantes 
in  regard  to  the  crimes  of  the  Sire  de  Retz,  including 
the  mention  of  a  forced  entry  of  one  of  his  churches. 

De  Retz  made  answer  by  tearing  the  letter  to  frag 
ments  ;  and  the  prince  laughingly  protested  that  it  was 
the  easiest  way  to  answer  it. 

Thus  the  marshal,  by  a  daring  which  surpassed 
another's  dreams,  justified  himself  by  that  most  potent 
argument,  success,  and  fortified  himself  against  his 
enemies. 

In  Metz,  all  went  well  for  him.  The  free  city,  which 
owed  nothing  to  king  or  emperor,  showed  itself  a 
generous  host,  and  lavished  honors  upon  the  guest 
whose  presence  was  a  distinction.  Splendid  banquets 
were  given  to  Jeanne  du  Lis  ;  shows  and  pageants, 
mock  combats  and  mysteries,  were  arranged  as  if  for 
the  entertainment  of  a  royal  visitor.  The  Duchess  of 


116  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Luxembourg,  anxious  to  remove  the  stigma  from  that 
name,  sent  a  pressing  invitation  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans 
to  visit  her  in  her  castle  of  Arlon.  Nobles  and  'princes 
vied  with  each  other  for  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance. 
Gifts  were  lavished  upon  her ;  and  a  frenzy  of  popular 
enthusiasm  greeted  the  Maid  wherever  she  showed 
herself. 

One  bright  May  morning  a  pushing,  hurrying  throng 
—  horsemen,  armed  soldiers,  dusty  pedestrians,  dashing 
knights,  ladies  in  litters  or  on  pillions,  barefooted  friars, 
children,  prelates  of  the  church  on  ambling  palfries, 
street  beggars,  mountebanks,  the  whole  population,  it 
would  seem,  of  the  city  of  Metz  —  discharged  itself  in 
a  constant  stream  from  the  eastern  gate  of  the  city; 
and  passing  under  the  guns  of  the  frowning  fortress 
which  protected  the  district  on  this  side,  took  their 
way  along  the  highroad  in  the  direction  of  the  village 
of  Marville. 

A  contagious  enthusiasm  was  in  the  air.  Under  its 
impulse  the  heterogeneous  multitude  moved  as  one 
body. 

"  Jeanne  du  Lis  is  to  meet  her  brothers  to-day  at 
Marville."  This  was  the  rumor  that  set  the  crowd  in 
motion.  It  was  not  only  an  occasion  to  satisfy  the 
curious,  but  many  worthy  people  had  appealed  to  it  as  a 
crucial  test  of  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the  claims  of  the 
Maid. 


RECOGNITION.  117 

Those  who  came  first  into  the  village  were  able 
to  secure  the  most  desirable  positions  about  the  open 
square  or  on  the  housetops,  steps,  and  porticoes  that 
overlooked  it.  Daring  boys  bestrode  the  branches  of 
the  trees  that  lined  the  road.  The  provost  of  Mar- 
ville,  swelling  with  dignity,  rode  up  and  down  on  a 
white  palfrey  housed  with  an  azure  cloth  worked 
with  three  fleurs-de-lis.  The  stone  steps  of  his  house, 
which  fronted  on  the  square,  were  spread  with  an 
Indian  carpet,  and  a  group  of  honored  guests  were 
seated  here,  —  the  lords  of  Thichiemont  and  Villette, 
and  some  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  their  company. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  green,  the  house  of 
Jean  Gugnot  made  an  even  more  imposing  appear 
ance.  Every  door  and  window  was  hung  with  ban 
ners,  pennons,  cloth-of-gold,  and  embroideries,  bearing 
witness  to  the  enviable  distinction  which  had  befallen 
it  in  being  chosen  for  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Maid. 
The  rich  silversmith  owed  this  honor  to  a  former 
acquaintance  with  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  and  an 
unscrupulous  zeal  in  his  service  which  counter-bal 
anced  the  odium  connected  with  his  name  as  a 
money-lender  and  usurer. 

His  fellow-townsmen  grumbled,  and  took  unfriendly 
note  of  the  lavish  expenditures  incurred  on  this  occa 
sion,  remembering  how  his  coffers  had  been  filled. 
They  counted  the  sheep,  calves,  and  oxen  that  had 


118  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

been  slaughtered  for  the  feast  to  which  all  comers 
were  invited;  the  capons,  herons,  geese,  and  ducks, 
vats  of  butter  and  cheese,  and  casks  of  wine  and 
mead,  which  promised  to  reimburse  the  victim  of 
past  extortion  to  the  extent  of  his  appetite  if  he 
were  willing  to  lay  aside  the  grudge  of  years  and 
sit  at  Jean  Gugnot's  table. 

"  His  house  is  chosen,  no  doubt,  because  it  is  large 
and  commodious.  He  has,  besides,  a  very  pretty 
daughter,"  said  Jean  de  Thoneletil,  Lord  of  Villette, 
in  reply  to  a  severe  remark  from  the  provost's  wife, 
who  could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  decorated  fagade 
of  the  house  over  the  way. 

"  I  have  three  daughters,"  she  replied,  straightening 
her  portly  form,  and  glancing  into  the  background, 
where  three  heads  of  tightly  plaited  reddish  hair, 
surmounted  by  tall  white  head-dresses,  might  be  seen 
eagerly  extended  from  the  buttery  windows. 

"  As  if  the  pretty  daughter  were  of  the  least 
concern  in  this  case,"  said  the  beautiful  young  Lady 
de  Villette  with  a  frown.  Her  husband  did  not 
observe  the  remark;  but  Des  Armoises,  who  was  her 
neighbor,  felt  called  upon  to  answer  it. 

"  Beauty  always  makes  itself  felt,"  he  said. 

"In  proof  of  which  my  husband  has  not  taken 
his  eyes  from  the  charming  young  bourgeoise  of 
Metz,  who  came  in  your  company,"  she  answered 
discontentedly.  "  Tell  me  who  she  is." 


RECOGNITION.  119 

"  Eudeline  de  Novelonpont,"  replied  Robert.  "  Her 
brother  is  my  friend,  the  tall  man  yonder." 

"  Who  stands  like  a  hound  straining  at  a  leash," 
said  the  lady.  "  His  sister's  hand  on  his  arm  is  all 
that  keeps  him  from  imitating  the  crowds  who  press 
to  the  edge  of  the  pavement,  thinking  to  see  better 
if  under  the  very  hoofs  of  the  horses.  She  is  pretty, 
too,  but  not  remarkably  so.  Her  mouth  is  too  wide, 
and  her  lips  a  trifle  too  full.  But  perhaps,  my  Lord  of 
Thichiemont,  your  heart  and  eyes  are  engaged  there." 

"No,"  answered  Robert.  "Beauty  delights  my 
eyes  wherever  they  meet  it;  but  my  heart  is  a  dull, 
stony  thing,  that  never  beats  the  faster  for  the 
touch  of  a  woman's  hand." 

"Delightful  insensibility,"  said  she.  "I  wish  Jean 
could  imitate  it.  But  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that 
you  are  of  so  calm  a  nature  as  you  would  have  me 
believe.  You  have  been  this  half  hour  as  restless  as 
a  hawk,  starting  at  every  sound.  Is  it  the  Maid 
of  Orleans  to  whom  you  have  vowed  your  fancy  ?  " 

"Aspiration  there  would  be  as  hopeless  as  longing 
for  a  star,"  answered  Robert  evasively. 

"  Yes  ;  I  hear  that .  Count  Ulric  of  Wiirtemberg, 
who  came  on  a  mission  to  her,  straightway  forgot 
it,  and  declared  himself  her  suitor;  and  that  he 
follows  her  everywhere  she  goes,  like  a  captive  led 
in  chains.  But  now,  how  cross  you  look !  Neither 


120  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

you  nor  Jean  has  given  me  a  smile  to-day.  Unless 
I  can  make  myself  a  round-faced  bourgeoise,  with  a 
velvet  cap  and  silk-lined  kirtle,  or  wear  armor  and 
ride  astride  like  a  man,  I  can  please  neither  of 
you." 

Robert  was  spared  the  necessity  of  a  reply,  for  at 
this  moment  a  distant  shout  caused  every  one  to  start 
into  eager  attention.  The  crowd  pushed  and  elbowed 
for  a  better  position,  until  the  provost's  guard,  bear 
ing  down  upon  them,  cleared  the  way  in  advance  of 
a  company  of  mounted  soldiers,  who  clattered  into 
the  village.  They  were  men  long  of  limb  and  broad 
of  chest,  with  fierce,  scarred  faces,  and  hands  that 
could  deal  deadly  blows  with  mace  or  battle-axe ;  a 
picked  band  of  troopers  led  by  a  lieutenant  of  the 
Marshal  de  Retz.  They  bore  his  pennon  and  the  red 
flag  of  France. 

Behind  them  came  a  figure  clad  in  shining  armor, 
and  riding  a  stately  horse  whose  golden  housings  swept 
the  ground.  It  was  a  woman ;  for  her  head  was  bare, 
and  her  soft  chestnut  hair  brushed  back  from  the  face 
fell  in  ringlets  upon  the  gleaming  cuirass.  A  squire, 
who  rode  close  behind,  bore  a  white  banner  with  golden 
fringe,  upon  whose  surface  was  displayed  the  figure 
of  God  in  glory  and  two  saints  each  with  a  fleur-de- 
lis,  and  in  golden  letters  the  inscription,  Jhesu  Maria. 
At  this  sight,  which  was  a  resurrection  from  the  past, 


RECOGNITION.  121 

a  mighty  shout  burst  from  the  throng :  "  Noel,  Noel ! 
Long  live  Jeanne  Dare  ! "  The  people,  frantic  with 
joy,  flung  their  hats  into  the  air.  They  gave  thanks 
to  God.  They  wept  and  prayed,  and  prostrated  them 
selves  that  they  might  kiss  the  fringes  of  her  saddle 
cloth.  Mothers  crowded  about  her,  holding  young 
children  in  their  arms  to  beseech  her  blessing  for 
them;  the  sick  and  the  infirm  dragged  themselves 
into  the  path  that  they  might  beg  healing  at  her 
touch. 

The  soldiers,  at  the  command  of  their  leader,  halted 
in  a  motionless  column  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
square,  while  the  bright  vision,  upon  whom  all  eyes 
were  fixed,  rode  slowly  around  the  green,  her  prog 
ress  everywhere  impeded  by  the  crowd,  whose  frantic 
demonstrations  could  not  be  restrained. 

"She  is  coming,"  said  Eudeline,  trembling  with  ex 
citement,  as  she  clung  to  her  brother's  arm.  "  Soon 
she  will  be  near  enough  to  touch  us  if  she  should  put 
forth  her  hand.  Now  you  can  assure  yourself,  brother, 
with  your  own  eyes  whether  she  is  indeed  Jeanne 
Dare." 

Jean  de  Metz  made  no  reply.  His  whole  being  was 
concentrated  into  the  single  faculty  of  sight.  The 
scene  was  so  like  a  vision  from  another  world  that  he 
could  not  be  sure  that  he  were  not  in  some  strange 
state  of  trance.  Surely  his  doubt  had  been  the  weak- 


122  THE  SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

ness  of  a  timorous  spirit,  unable  to  believe  that  which 
it  most  desired.  Should  he  obey  the  impulse  that 
urged  him  to  shout  "Noel"  with  the  rest,  and  to 
prostrate  himself  at  her  feet? 

Jeanne  rode  on  until  she  came  before  the  provost's 
house.  Here  her  attention  was  attracted  by  the  group 
in  the  doorway,  made  noticeable  by  the  glowing  colors 
of  the  Indian  rug,  the  satin  and  velvet  of  the  pro 
vost's  wife,  and  the  fur-trimmed,  jewel-bespangled  gar 
ments  of  the  Lady  of  Villette  and  her  sister. 

The  noble  war-horse,  descendant  of  a  long  line  of 
thoroughbreds,  picked  his  way  through  the  crowd  un- 
guided  by  spur  or  rein ;  stopping  with  arched  neck 
and  pawing  hoof,  if  the  throng  pressed  too  closely, 
and  resuming  his  course  with  high-bred  dignity  when 
it  opened  before  him. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Maid  sat  thus  motionless 
regarding  the  provost's  guests,  unmindful  of  de  Metz 
and  his  sister  who  stood  below  and  close  beside  her 
among  the  crowd.  Suddenly  her  glance  brightened 
into  recognition.  A  quick  blush  colored  her  cheek. 
She  shook  the  reins ;  and  her  horse,  obeying  the  mo 
tion,  sprang  forward  regardless  of  obstacles. 

"  It  is  you,  Des  Armoises,  who  were  honored  by  her 
smile,"  said  Villette,  leaning  forward,  and  placing  a 
heavy  hand  upon  his  friend's  shoulder. 

"  I  had  the  joy  of   sitting  beside  her  at  a  banquet 


RECOGNITION.  123 

which  the  captain  of  the  city  gave  her  in  Metz,"  an 
swered  Robert.  "It  cannot  be  that  she  remembers 
me!" 

"Oh,  you  are  not  one  that  is  easily  forgotten,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Villette.  "  Your  mirror,  if  you  look  into 
it,  will  tell  you  that." 

"A  barefaced  compliment,"  said  Villette.  "Marie 
does  not  praise  my  face." 

"It  is  too  seldom  turned  towards  me  for  that,"  re 
torted  his  wife. 

Eudeline,  watching  her  brother,  saw  his  look  change 
quickly. 

"  What  is  it,  Jean  ? "  she  asked,  conscious  of  a 
sudden  pang,  and  wondering  if  his  thought  were 
hers. 

"  She  is  an  impostor,"  he  said.  "  It  is  all  witch 
craft  and  delusion.  Let  us  go  to  church,  Eudeline, 
and  pray  that  God  may  restore  our  senses." 

Des  Armoises  left  his  seat,  and  joined  the  brother 
and  sister  in  response  to  a  piteous  look  from  Eudeline. 
Her  eyes  were  made  for  soft  appeals  to  the  chivalry 
of  man. 

"She  did  not  see  you,  Jean,"  said  Robert.  "I  felt 
for  your  disappointment.  What  glory  it  would  be 
to  clasp  her  hand  with  the  world  looking  on  in  envy. 
That  will  come  later;  at  the  banquet  to-day,  perhaps. 
I  will  see  that  you  have  a  place  at  the  provost's 
table." 


124  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Jean  turned  his  head  aside. 

"  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment,"  he  said;  "but  not 
as  you  imagine.  For  a  moment  my  heart  gave  a  leap, 
and  I  cried,  '  Thank  God ! '  The  next  I  humbly  be 
sought  God's  mercy  upon  us,  for  we  all  are  ensnared  in 
a  trap  of  the  evil  one.  This  woman  is  an  impostor." 

Robert  seized  his  friend  by  the  arm.  "  Do  not  dare 
to  -speak  that  word  aloud,"  he  said.  "Keep  your 
insane  suspicions  to  yourself.  As  well  might  that 
blind  man  yonder  deny  the  sunshine,  and  declare  that 
we  who  behold  it  are  deceived.  Much  brooding  over 
this  matter  has  made  you  mad." 

"  I  feared  he  would  be  ill,"  said  Eudeline,  "  for  the 
week  he  has  been  home  with  me  in  Metz  he  has 
hardly  eaten  or  slept." 

"My  health  is  good,  and  my  judgment  sound,"  said 
De  Metz.  "  I  see  only  too  clearly  that  this  is  a  device 
of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  who  has  used  the  power  of 
enchantment  he  has  long  been  credited  with  possess 
ing  to  make  another  woman  take  for  us  who  have 
known  her  the  form  and  features  of  Jeanne  Dare." 

Des  Armoises  regarded  his  friend  with  compassion. 

"Surely  you  are  beside  yourself,"  he  said;  "but  let 
us  hasten,  and  we  shall  witness  the  meeting  of  the 
Maid  and  her  brothers.  That  may  well  be  the  test 
of  her  truth." 

As  he  spoke,  he  pushed   his  way  across  the  green 


RECOGNITION.  125 

to  the  open  space  before  Jean  Gugnot's  door,  where 
the  leisurely  progress  of  the  Maid  had  brought  her. 
At  her  approach,  two  young  men,  who  had  been  wait 
ing  beneath  the  pavilion  of  cloth-of-gold  in  front 
of  the  house,  advanced  to  met  her  as  she  descended 
from  her  horse.  Robert  was  near  enough  to  observe 
the  radiant  delight  that  shone  upon  her  face. 

"  Jean !  Pierre  !  "  she  cried,  embracing  them  with 
tears,  while  they  kissed  her  in  return  with  expres 
sions  of  affection. 

"Are  you  convinced,  doubting  Thomas?"  asked 
Des  Armoises,  turning  in  triumph  to  his  friend. 

"  They  have  conspired  together  in  a  dishonorable 
scheme  to  foist  a  pretender  upon  the  world,"  said 
De  Metz.  "  I  can  no  longer  endure  to  witness  its 
success.  I  will  return  to  my  home,  and  take  counsel 
what  it  is  best  to  do." 

"  You  will  not  stay  to  the  banquet  ?  " 

"  Food  would  choke  me." 

u  And  your  sour  looks  would  spoil  the  feast.  Go, 
since  you  must;  but  leave  your  sister  in  charge  of 
the  Lady  of  Villette.  I  will  answer  that  she  shows 
her  every  attention." 

"  Eudeline  will  not  stay  without  me,"  replied  Novel- 
onpont. 

"  It  is  a  pity  she  should  miss  the  banquet  and  the 
dance,"  said  Robert, 


126  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"She  is  no  happier  than  I,"  said  Jean.  "I  notice 
that  she  can  scarce  keep  back  her  tears." 

"  Some  one  may  have  wounded  her  thoughtlessly," 
said  Robert  with  quick  concern. 

"She  is,  like  me,  amazed  and  confounded  by  the 
success  of  this  imposture." 

"  Fie  upon  you,  for  an  obstinate  unbeliever !  "  cried 
Des  Armoises.  "No  heretic  was  ever  burnt  for  a 
more  persistent  delusion." 

"  It  is  you  who  are  deluded,"  retorted  De  Metz. 
"  The  look  of  love  the  enchantress  gave  you  has  turned 
your  head.  It  was  that  which  opened  my  eyes ;  and 
at  that  moment  I  saw  her  as  she  is,  — a  lying  impostor, 
decked  out  to  ape  the  looks  and  manners  of  an  angel 
of  light." 

"  Heaven  mend  your  wits !  "  exclaimed  Robert.  "  It 
is  useless  to  reason  with  you.  A  look  of  love  do 
you  say  ?  Would  it  were  possible  !  "  And  following 
his  friend,  he  rejoined  Eudeline,  protesting  against  her 
early  departure,  and  declaring  that  he  had  hoped  to 
dance  with  her  that  night. 

Eudeline  hesitated  how  to  answer,  and  looked  regret 
fully  towards  her  brother,  who  was  making  hurried 
preparations  for  the  return. 

"  Do  not  listen  to  him,"  said  Jean  over  his  shoulder. 
"He  speaks  from  the  heart;  but  he  can  no  more 
ans\ver  for  his  actions  than  the  sailor  who  hears  the 


RECOGNITION.  127 

siren's  song.  If  that  bright-eyed  witch  should  smile 
at  him  again  he  would  leave  all  else  and  follow 
her." 

"  Once  you  are  home,  Eudeline,  call  the  surgeon 
and  see  that  he  bleeds  your  brother,  and  gives  him 
a  soothing  draught,"  whispered  Robert.  "He  talks 
like  one  distraught." 

Eudeline  made  no  reply,  and  only  gave  a  down 
cast  glance  in  answer  to  Des  Armoises's  farewells ; 
when,  having  assisted  her  to  mount  behind  her  brother 
on  the  tall  gray  horse  which  was  accustomed  to  the 
double  burden,  he  kissed  her  slim  fingers,  waved  a 
smiling  farewell,  and  stood  to  watch  them  out  of 
sight.  The  two  dejected  travellers,  with  their  faces 
set  towards  Metz,  went  slowly  towards  the  setting  sun, 
which  flung  long  shadows  across  the  path,  and  sent 
a  sheaf  of  arrow-like  rays  darting  skyward  from  the 
bosom  of  a  silver-lined  cloud. 

"  It  will  be  dark  before  we  reach  the  city,"  said 
Eudeline. 

"No  matter.  There  is  a  moon,  and  the  stars  are 
bright.  Do  you  sit  at  ease,  sister?" 

"  Very  comfortably,"  she  answered  with  a  sigh. 
"  It  is  a  tedious  road." 

"  But  when  we  are  at  home,  you  will  be  glad.  It 
is  pleasanter  than  a  lodging  among  strangers." 

"Yes,"    said    Eudeline,    wiping  her   eyes.      "They 


128  THE   SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

say  the  plates  for  the  banquet  were  to  be  of  solid 
gold." 

"No  better  than  pewter  for  taste,"  answered  Jean. 

"  They  were  to  have  twenty  horns  to  make  music," 
she  remarked. 

"  And  all  blowing  in  a  different  key,  no  doubt," 
he  answered.  "  Seeing  how  freely  the  wine  ran,  I 
doubt  if  one  of  the  servants  or  musicians  has  a  steady 
head  by  night." 

"  If  the  Sire  Des  Armoises  had  danced  with  me,  I 
should  not  have  noticed  the  music,"  she  said. 

"  It  would  have  been  precisely  as  I  warned  you," 
answered  her  brother.  "  Did  he  have  eyes  for  you 
to-day  when  we  watched  the  procession?  You  might 
have  been  in  Metz  for  all  thought  he  gave  you  then." 

"  He  came  directly  I  looked  at  him,"  said  Eude- 
line  with  trembling  lips. 

"  He  is  kind  and  friendly,"  said  Jean ;  "  but  do 
not  set  your  heart  upon  him,  sister." 

"  How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing  ? "  cried 
Eudeline  with  energy.  "  He  is  less  than  nothing  to 
me." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  rejoined  her  brother  in  a 
tone  of  relief.  "  Sit  steady  now,  and  we  will  gallop 
along  this  piece  of  level  road.  See,  there  is  the 
tower  of  the  cathedral,  and  the  spire  of  St.  Seglenne. 
It  will  not  be  long  before  we  are  at  home." 


RECOGNITION.  129 

Eudeline,  looking  back,  saw  the  glare  of  the  bon 
fires  that  illuminated  the  village,  redly  reflected  on 
the  cloud  of  fog  which  hung  above  the  swamps  of 
the  valley.  On  the  other  side,  the  evening  star 
throbbed  in  the  golden  west.  Its  radiance,  too,  was 
dim  and  wavering,  veiled  by  tears. 


130  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

BLUEBEAKD'S  CASTLE. 

[HE  dance  was  ended,  the  crowds  dis 
persed,  and  darkness  and  silence  fell 
over  Marville.  The  bonfires  burned 
themselves  out,  and  the  stars  sank  in 
the  eternal  order  of  their  progress  one 
by  one  behind  the  hill.  Slumber  put  its  seal  on  many 
records  of  shame,  and  released  the  weary  conscience 
from  its  Ixion's  wheel.  The  oblivion  which  all  wel 
come  nightly,  though  holding  it  the  menace  of  joy  at 
the  end  of  life's  day,  fell  impartially  upon  the  just 
and  the  unjust. 

In  the  high  window  of  the  silversmith's  guest-cham 
ber  a  light  was  burning  at  midnight.  The  sentinel 
who  kept  watch  in  the  square  below  felt  its  compan 
ionship,  and  turned  his  eyes  towards  it  as  often  as  he 
came  within  range  of  its  feeble  beam  ;  the  light  sug 
gesting  waking  human  thought  and  neighborhood. 

Four  people  sat  together  in  the  centre  of  this  illumi 
nation,  which  was  made  by  three  tall  candles  in  the 
sockets  of  a  branching  silver  candlestick,  placed  on  a 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  131 

carved  oaken  table,  near  which  chairs  had  been  closely 
drawn.  The  room  was  full  of  ponderous  furniture, 
and  hung  with  faded  arras  which  was  black  in  the 
shadow  and  only  showed  here  and  there  traces  of  color, 
and  figures  whose  inventor's  purpose  must  remain 
unguessed.  The  curtained  bed  was  a  vast  cavern  of 
shade,  relieved  only  by  the  glimmer  of  the  gilded 
fringe  of  the  counterpane.  High-backed  settles  with 
upright  cushions  of  a  forbidding  hardness  occupied 
either  side  of  the  fireplace.  Heavy  oak  chairs  were 
set  squarely  against  the  walls,  as  if  it  was  never  meant 
that  they  should  be  displaced.  The  only  sign  of  dis 
order  in  the  room  consequent  upon  its  occupancy  was 
that  upon  one  of  the  settles  a  trailing  ermine-lined 
robe  was  carelessly  flung,  supplemented  by  a  pair  of 
shining  red  leather  shoes  with  extremely  long  and 
pointed  upward-curving  toes.  On  the  other  side,  a 
heap  of  armor  lay  upon  the  floor. 

The  four  who  sat  about  the  table  were  absorbed  in 
conversation  of  a  sort  that  has  a  double  meaning  for 
the  ear  and  the  heart,  the  emotion  behind  it  being  of  a 
kind  not  translatable  in  words.  The  only  medium  for 
the  communication  of  the  intensest  feeling  is  the  lan 
guage  of  the  infant  or  the  brute ;  cries,  gestures,  and 
muscular  contortions  which  the  orderly  conventionali 
ties  of  life  forbid.  Pierre  du  Lis,  with  rage  in  his  heart, 
hid  a  tiger's  impulse  beneath  a  cloak  of  gentlemanlike 
indifference. 


132  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Father  Ambrose  had  long  since  learned  to  sink  the 
man  in  the  priest ;  and  the  gentle  authority  of  his  man 
ner  gave  no  hint  of  the  lava  flow  of  tumultuous  feel- 

O 

ings  that  surged  beneath  the  surface.  Jean  du  Lis 
showed  a  diplomatic  reserve  in  the  presence  of  forces 
suspectedly  hostile  to  his  own  designs,  and  maintained 
an  attitude  of  serene  impartiality. 

The  pretender,  unmasked  before  those  who  knew 
her,  was  neither  abject  nor  defiant  in  her  challenge  to 
their  judgment.  She  had  thrown  aside  her  outer  robe  ; 
and  the  tight-fitting  undergown  of  blue  silk,  wrought 
with  golden  fleurs-de-lis,  defined  her  queenly  figure, 
leaving  neck  and  arms  bare.  A  golden  circlet  rested 
on  her  floating  chestnut  locks,  that  curled  at  the  ends 
in  heavy  ringlets  upon  her  shoulders.  Her  feet  were 
thrust  into  jewelled  slippers.  In  this  rich  attire  she 
had  all  the  dignity  of  a  sovereign  awaiting  unjust 
impeachment. 

"  Is  that  wrong  which  one  does  of  necessity  ? "  she 
asked,  in  answer  to  a  sneering  innuendo  from  Pierre. 

"No,"  replied  Ambrose  in  his  soft  measured  utter 
ance  ;  "  necessity  is  a  power  against  which  we  struggle 
like  a  fly  in  a  cobweb  to  our  greater  entanglement. 
What  is  man,  the  creature  of  a  day,  that  he  should 
make  himself  superior  to  nature  of  which  he  is  a  part? 
Free  will  is  a  dream  of  the  schoolmen.  Yet  as  Chris 
tians  we  strive  for  an  unattainable  perfection ;  and  the 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  133 

heart  will  never  be  free  from  the  consciousness  of  guilt 
until  freed  from  the  burden  of  the  flesh.  All  who  have 
tried  it  know  the  salutary  power  of  penance  to  refresh 
the  spiritual  part  of  man  which  languishes  in  its  gross 
material  prison.  Why  should  you,  Pierre,  blame  a  fault 
which  you  have  shared  by  raising  no  voice  against  it  ?  " 

The  pretender  started.  "  The  marshal  trusts  you. 
You  could  not  think  of  that,"  she  said. 

"No,"  answered  Pierre;  "not  without  giving  you  an 
alternative,  and  coming  first  of  all  to  a  deliberate 
understanding.  Let  us  hear  your  story.  Ambrose 
has  told  us  all  that  happened  before  you  left  Nancy, 
and  the  marshal's  letters  which  have  been  read  to  us 
describe  the  manner  in  which  he  perfected  his  scheme. 
It  remains  to  be  explained  how  the  force  of  necessity 
was  applied  so  as  to  leave  you  no  choice  of  refusal; 
for  in  spite  of  what  the  holy  Ambrose  says,  I  feel 
myself  a  free  man,  and  able  to  refuse  or  accept,  com 
pelled  by  no  one." 

"  If  you  feared  for  your  life  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  risk  it  daily,"  he  replied. 

"  But  as  a  soldier,  in  the  heat  of  battle,"  she  said. 
"  That  is  not  as  if  you  were  threatened  with  murder 
by  a  slow  and  torturing  process,  the  fear  of  which 
turns  your  blood  chill." 

"Give  me  proof  of  this,"  said  Jean;  "and  the  mar 
shal  shall  hang  as  a  felon." 


134  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUE-DE-LIS. 

"  There  is  no  proof  but  my  word,"  she  replied, 
"and  that  would  not  avail.  The  greatest  men  in 
the  kingdom  have  sought  in  vain  for  judgment  against 
him.  He  is  a  relative  of  the  De  Montforts,  a  terri 
ble  name.  In  his  castles  he  is  like  a  king  command 
ing  an  army." 

"  Tell  us  your  story,  sister,"  urged  Jean. 

"I  will  begin,  then,  from  the  day  I  reached  Suze," 
she  said.  "  I  was  to  serve  the  lady,  his  wife ;  but  I 
found  her  absent,  and  learned  that  she  had  gone  to 
visit  kinsfolk  near  Orleans  with  little  prospect  of 
return,  as  she  had  quarrelled  with  her  husband.  This 
gave  me  great  uneasiness ;  but  until  the  marshal  should 
come  I  had  no  one  to  reproach  for  the  deception,  and 
no  choice  but  to  remain.  By  his  orders  I  was  treated 
with  distinction,  given  a  suite  of  apartments,  allowed 
a  couple  of  waiting-women,  a  man-servant  to  attend 
me  when  I  rode  out,  and  a  minstrel  to  sing  to  me 
when  I  chose.  It  is  to  David,  the  minstrel,  that  I 
owe  every  cheerful  hour  in  that  miserable  time.  The 
women  were  surly  and  hostile ;  and  the  man-servant, 
a  spy  set  to  watch  my  motions,  and  return  me  safe 
to  the  castle  after  every  excursion.  David  alone  was 
my  friend.  The  others  called  him  a  madman,  and 
told  me  he  had  times  of  frenzy  when  he  would  de 
clare  that  he  was  a  great  nobleman,  who  had  been 
murdered  and  brought  back  from  the  dead ;  but  this 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  135 

I  never  believed,  for  well  as  I  knew  him  he  never 
showed  any  signs  of  a  diseased  mind,  but  was  always 
the  same  cheerful  companion,  ready  to  amuse  my 
dullness,  and  relieve  my  anxieties. 

"  He  taught  me  many  things  besides  his  songs. 
He  knew  history  and  politics,  and  the  manners  of 
the  world,  and  all  that  was  going  on  outside  the 
dull  walls  of  Suze.  I  wondered  how  he  learned  it; 
for  we  saw  nothing  all  day  long  from  the  windows 
but  dreary  stretches  of  level  land  fading  into  the 
sky  at  the  horizon;  and  the  only  moving  objects 
within  view  were  the  peasants  who  stalked  over  the 
marshy  fields  on  long  stilts  that  made  them  look  in 
the  distance  like  gigantic  storks. 

"  When  David  was  called  away  from  Suze  I  was 
desolate  indeed,  and  was  made  more  so  by  the  news 
of  the  marshal's  expected  return.  I  had  learned  to 
fear  him  and  dread  his  coming,  even  though  it  should 
put  an  end  to  my  tedious  imprisonment.  When  he 
came,  I  was  ashamed  of  my  fears ;  for  he  treated  me 
with  distant  politeness,  promised  that  his  wife  would 
soon  return,  and  gave  me  instead  of  David  an  Italian 
priest  for  instructor.  He  taught  me  in  reading  for 
an  hour  a  day ;  set  me  the  task  of  embroidering  an 
altar-cloth,  and  for  the  rest,  left  me  entirely  alone. 
I  was  not  even  expected  to  attend  the  chapel  ser 
vice  ;  though  upon  the  marshal's  return  it  was  daily 


136  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

celebrated  in  a  splendid  manner  with  candles  and 
incense  and  the  music  of  a  choir  of  boys  whom  he 
brought  with  him. 

"  Frangois,  the  priest,  told  me  that  these  boys  were 
the  children  of  wealthy  parents,  who  were  glad  to 
entrust  them  to  the  care  and  instruction  of  the  Mar 
shal  de  Retz,  who  was  noted  as  the  most  devout  and 
religious  nobleman  of  his  time.  He  was  so  fond  of 
church  music  that  he  made  it  his  business  to  encour 
age  it,  as  he  did  all  arts  and  learning,  for  he  was  as 
well-educated  as  he  was  religious.  He  had  given 
money  to  found  several  convents;  and  he  was  at  vast 
expense  to  secure  the  services  of  a  teacher  of  music 
who  had  lately  been  in  the  employment  of  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  and  was  now  at  Suze  engaged  in  train 
ing  the  marshal's  choir  of  fifty  boys. 

"From  my  rooms  in  a  wing  of  the  castle  I  could 
see  the  windows  of  the  chapel;  and  in  the  evening  I 
loved  to  watch  them  when  they  were  illuminated  by 
the  light  within,  and  shone  in  beautiful  many-colored 
patterns.  Often  I  could  hear  the  distant  strains  of 
the  music ;  and  it  was  so  wondrously  sweet  that  it 
never  failed  to  bring  tears  to  my  eyes. 

"  One  cloudy  autumn  evening,  the  chapel  windows 
shone  so  enticingly  through  the  mist,  that  they  tempted 
me  to  break  the  monotony  of  a  dull  day  by  attending 
the  service,  as  I  had  longed  but  never  dared  to  do, 


BLUEBEAKD'S  CASTLE.  137 

since  Frai^ois  had  sharply  forbidden  it.  The  inner 
door  towards  the  main  part  of  the  castle  was  always 
kept  locked  as  if  to  discourage  my  going  beyond 
bounds  in  that  direction ;  but  on  this  day,  as  it 
chanced,  the  key  was  in  the  lock. 

"  The  corridor  beyond  led  between  long  suites  of 
rooms,  with  many  turnings  and  steps  up  and  down ; 
but  the  music  guided  me,  and  brought  me  at  last  to 
the  foot  of  a  carved  stone  staircase  where  a  curtain 
hung  in  an  arched  doorway.  I  peeped  between  the 
folds  of  the  curtain,  and  stopped,  dazzled  by  the  light 
of  candles  on  an  altar  close  before  me.  The  vaulted 
roof  of  the  chapel  was  over  my  head,  for  I  was  in 
a  recess  just  behind  the  choir  at  the  entrance  used 
by  the  boys  in  the  processionals.  They  stood  near 
me  in  ranks  like  white-robed  seraphs,  singing  as  they 
must  in  paradise.  Frai^ois,  the  priest,  presided  at 
the  altar,  and  acolytes  swung  censers  ;  but  the  only 
worshipper  was  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  who  knelt  in 
front  of  the  chancel. 

"  I  was  afraid  to  meet  his  look,  and  drew  back  be 
hind  the  curtain  ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  no 
ticed  a  little  choir  boy  in  his  robes  of  satin  and  lace, 
crouching  in  a  corner  of  the  curtained  alcove,  and 
watching  me  with  frightened  eyes  that  showed  traces 
of  tears. 

"  '  What  ails  you  ?  '  I  asked.  '  Why  are  you  not 
in  your  place  ?  ' 


138  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

'"I  am  so  frightened,'  he  answered. 

" '  What  do  you  fear,  poor  child  ?  '  I  asked. 

'"The  marshal,'  lie  replied  with  a  sob.  '  Every  day 
one  of  those  who  sing  here  goes  away.  I  fear  it 
may  be  my  turn.' 

"  '  Goes  where  ?  '  I  asked. 

'"No  one  comes  back  to  tell,'  he  whispered.  'The 
marshal  murders  them  I  know.  Go  away,  if  you  can.' 

"A  terror  seized  me  in  spite  of  myself.  'Come,  let 
us  go  together,'  I  said,  holding  out  my  hand. 

"I  dare  not.  I  shall  be  missed,'  he  answered.  'I 
must  go  back  and  sing  those  devilish  hymns.' 

" '  What  do  you  mean  ? '  I  asked.  '  They  are  so  sweet.' 

" '  But  listen,'  said  the  child.  '  They  are  singing 
the  office  for  All  Saints'  Day ;  but  where  we  should 
say  the  holy  names  we  are  forced  to  use  those  of 
devils,  —  Barren,  Orient,  Belzebuth,  Satan,  and  Belial. 
Listen,  and  you  will  hear  them.' 

"  I  had  not  noticed  the  words  to  which  the  sweet 
sounds  were  put ;  now  I  listened,  and  heard  what  I 
could  not  have  believed  possible,  —  an  impious  parody 
of  the  holy  office.  It  seemed  a  sin  to  be  there ;  and 
I  turned  and  rushed  from  the  place,  not  daring  to  look 
behind. 

"  At  the  top  of  the  staircase,  bewildered  by  fear,  I 
took  the  wrong  turning,  and  entered  a  part  of  the 
castle  that  was  new  to  me.  These  were  the  rooms 


BLUEBEA11D  S   CASTLE. 

in  the  donjon  tower.  They  were  all  low  and  dark, 
with  rough  stone  walls,  and  heavy  groined  ceilings. 
Candles  burned  here  and  there  in  iron  sconces ;  and 
from  the  farthest  room  a  bright  light  shone,  illumi 
nating  the  rest.  Curiosity  led  me  to  this  room,  which 
was  so  singularly  furnished  that  I  felt  a  chill  of  fear. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  crimson  arras  wrought 
with  strange  characters  in  black.  A  great  table 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  lighted  by  a  red 
lamp  that  swung  overhead.  On  this  table  were 
numerous  sheets  of  manuscript,  written  in  red  ink. 
As  I  leaned  above  them  to  examine  the  curious  let 
tering  which  was  unlike  any  I  had  seen,  my  sleeve 
that  rested  on  the  table  showed  a  red  stain.  A  pool 
of  the  ink  was  on  the  black  table-cover.  I  started, 
for  it  looked  like  blood.  At  the  same  time,  I  heard 
a  noise  in  the  room  below  so  unearthly  that  I  was 
forced  against  my  will  to  steal  down  the  short  flight 
of  stairs  that  led  between  to  see  what  could  be  there. 
"What  I  saw,  brothers,  I  can  never  tell.  The 
thought  of  it  brings  back  too  plainly  that  hideous 
moment.  I  turned  and  ran  like  a  frightened  deer; 
and,  led  by  some  providence,  I  reached  my  room, 
where  I  fell  upon  the  floor  in  a  swoon.1 


1  The  story  of  the  infamous  Gilles  de  Laval,  robbed  of  its  worst 
features,  still  terrifies  the  imagination  of  childhood  in  the  guise  of 
the  nursery  legend  of  Bluebeard. 


140  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"For  weeks  I  lay  in  a  fever,  unconscious  and 
delirious ;  and  David,  who  watched  beside  me,  feared 
that  my  reason  would  never  return.  It  was  his 
presence,  and  the  sight  of  his  kind  face  that  restored  me. 

"  The  rest  I  can  soon  tell.  My  blood-stained  sleeve 
betrayed  to  the  marshal  my  knowledge  of  his  crimes. 
He  threw  off  his  reserve,  and  told  me  plainly  of  his 
plans  for  me ;  promising  me  wealth,  happiness,  and 
distinction  if  I  would  agree  to  represent  my  sister 
to  the  world,  and  a  fearful  end  if  I  refused.  I  had 
no  choice  but  to  obey." 

She  sighed,  and  leaned  back  wearily  in  her  chair, 
as  if  shrinking  from  the  expression  of  the  thoughts 
that  were  plainly  to  be  read  upon  the  faces  of  her 
listeners,  —  wrath  and  curiosity  and  horrified  incre 
dulity.  Pierre  began  a  series  of  eager  questions,  with 
all  the  manner  of  an  inquisitor  zealous  for  judgment. 
Jean  drew  his  sword,  and  vowed  by  the  cross  upon 
it  to  bring  the  marshal  to  justice  if  the  tale  were 
true.  Ambrose  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  prayed  in- 
audibly,  with  a  white,  stricken  face. 

"I  have  told  you  all  I  shall  ever  reveal,  Pierre," 
said  his  sister ;  "  urge  me  no  further.  But  I  can 
tell  you  of  a  happier  time  that  followed  when  I  left 
the  Castle  of  Suze,  each  stone  of  which  seemed 
cemented  with  blood,  and  went  to  live  at  a  convent 
in  Nantes.  The  abbess. was  a  kinswoman  of  the  Mar- 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  141 

shal  de  Retz ;  and  she  would  listen  to  no  hint  against 
him,  holding  his  honor  dear  to  her  as  part  of  the 
inheritance  of  the  race  from  which  she  had  sprung. 
Her  own  virtues  were  known  throughout  all  Brittainy ; 
and  she  was  everywhere  loved  and  venerated.  She 
herself  undertook  the  superintendence  of  my  time  in 
the  convent,  and  gave  me  a  share  in  her  intimacy 
that  fell  to  no  one  else ;  and  soon  her  slightest  wish 
became  my  law.  I  could  have  knelt  and  kissed  the 
pavement  where  she  walked,  so  grea't  was  my  admi 
ration  for  her ;  yet  she  dwelt  removed  in  a  cold 
serenity  that  never  allowed  a  near  approach  or  an 
expression  of  affection. 

"The  marshal  had  told  her  of  his  scheme;  and  she 
accepted  it  and  glorified  it  by  the  loftiness  of  her 
mind,  determining  that  the  deception  should  serve 
a  religious  purpose,  and  in  this  way  reconciling  it  to 
her  conscience.  She  talked  to  me  constantly  concern 
ing  my  mission,  and  gave  me  the  highest  motives  for 
it ;  assuring  me  that  the  spirit  of  my  sainted  sister 
would  inspire  me  to  finish  the  work  which  she  had 
left  undone.  When  she  found  me  loath  to  assume 
the  name  of  another,  judging  it  in  spite  of  her  argu 
ments  to  be  a  lie,  she  contrived  a  solemn  service  of 
dedication  that  should  reconcile  my  scruples,  and  at 
the  same  time  prepare  me  for  my  work. 

"It  took  place  in  the  chapel  at  midnight,  when  she 


142  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

and  I  were  alone  there  together.  I  knelt  at  the 
chancel  steps ;  and  the  abbess,  laying  her  hands  upon 
my  head,  made  a  prayer  to  St.  Michael,  St.  Catherine, 
and  St.  Margaret  to  visit  me  and  bless  me.  She 
sprinkled  my  forehead  with  holy  water,  and  gave  me 
the  name  of  the  Pucelle  to  be  mine  henceforth.  In 
the  convent  I  had  been  known  as  Claude.1  She 
blessed  me,  and  counselled  me  to  go  forth  on  my 
mission  cheered  by  the  presence  of  the  saints  and 
the  favor  of  God. 

"  From  that  hour  my  conscience  was  at  rest.  When 
the  marshal's  command  sent  me  forth  among  strangers, 
in  the  escort  of  rude  soldiers,  I  thought  of  Jeanne, 
prayed  to  the  saints,  and  took  courage.  When  I  met 
you,  my  brothers,  arid  you  received  me  kindly,  it 
seemed  that  my  prayers  were  answered.  It  was  fear 
of  your  denial  that  had  made  me  tremble." 

"  I  would  gladly  leave  you  with  your  flattering 
hope, "  said  Pierre.  "  I  pity  you,  Catherine,  and  no 
longer  hate  you,  as  I  did  an  hour  ago,  for  your  sin 
against  Jeanne.  But  a  soldier's  religion  admits  of 
no  such  compromise  with  truth  as  your  holy  abbess 
found  it  easy  to  make.  I  have  no  mind  to  aid  you 
further  than  to  spare  you  open  shame  before  the  mul 
titude  to-day.  You  shall  go  quietly  away  before  I 
declare  the  imposture  to  the  world." 

1  By  this  name  the  pretender  may  be  known  to  the  reader. 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  143 

The  pretender  trembled,  and  speechless  with  anx 
iety,  clasped  her  hands  upon  her  heart. 

Jean  protested  in  her  stead;  and  an  angry  argu 
ment  took  place  between  the  brothers,  during  which 
Ambrose  arose  from  his  knees,  and  stole  from  the 
room. 

"  There  is  only  one  alternative,"  said  Pierre  at  last. 
"I  imperil  my  honor  by  admitting  it;  but  the  credit 
of  our  family,  for  which  Jean  pleads,  may  be  served 
by  it.  So  this  I  yield  to  you  and  to  him.  If  you, 
Catherine,  will  marry  the  German  count,  who  sues, 
they  say,  for  your  hand,  and  withdraw  yourself  at 
once  to  Wiirtemberg,  obliterating  as  much  as  may  be 
all  traces  of  your  past,  and  forever  refusing  public 
notice,  I  will  make  no  open  scandal;  I  will  keep  your 
secret.  Forgive  me,  Jeanne,  for  this.  " 

He  hung  his  head,  and  stood  with  downcast  eyes 
awaiting  a  reply. 

"Agree,  Catherine,"  whispered  Jean.  "I  know  Pierre 
when  he  sets  his  teeth  thus,  like  a  bulldog.  Torture 
and  flame  would  not  move  him.  Promise  all  he  asks. 
It  is  your  only  safety  —  the  only  escape  of  all  of  us 
from  shame." 

"Must  I  marry  where  I  cannot  love?"  she  asked 
with  quivering  lips. 

"  Fool  !  "  cried  Pierre,  stamping  his  foot,  with  an 
oath.  "  Do  you  prate  of  love  when  hell's  chasms 


144  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

yawn  before  you  ?  Have  you  neither  eyes  nor  under 
standing?  I  came  into  this  room  ready  to  strangle  you 
with  my  own  hands.  Decide  at  once.  Time  presses.1' 

"  She  will  agree,"  said  Jean.     "  I  answer  for  her." 

"  I  must  have  her  oath,"  said  Pierre.  "  Swear  to 
me,  Catherine,  that  you  will  do  this." 

"  I  swear,"  she  answered  feebly,  at  the  next  moment 
bursting  into  tears. 

"  Come  away,  Pierre,  you  brute  !  "  cried  Jean.  "She 
is  worn  to  death  with  all  this  talk.  To  bed,  sister, 
and  sleep  well.  There  are  worse  fates  than  to  be  a 
Rhenish  countess,  lady  of  a  rich  domain,  and  safe 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  cursed  marshal." 

Claude  ran  to  him,  and  clung  about  his  neck. 

"Love  me,  Petit-Jean,"  she  said.  "You  are  all  I 
have  to  love." 

He  kissed  her,  and  awkwardly  disengaged  himself. 

"  But  stay  a  moment,  Petit-Jean,"  she  urged,  when 
the  door  had  closed  on  Pierre.  "  My  heart  is  aching 
for  news  from  home.  Seat  yourself;  and  let  us  talk 
awhile  as  brother  and  sister,  long  separated  and 
reunited.  Tell  me  of  my  mother." 

"  She  is  well,"  answered  Jean ;  "  and  thinking  you 
to  be  her  daughter  Jeanne,  she  sent  you  many  mes 
sages  and  gifts." 

"Have  I 'no  right  to  them?"  asked  his  sister  quickly. 
"Indeed,  I  know  she  would  send  me  quite  as  many 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  145 

in  my  own  person ;  for  I  was  always  her  favorite. 
And  my  mother  would  not  count  me  an  impostor ; 
my  second  name  was  Jeanne,  though  no  one  called 
me  by  it.  How  is  my  father,  and  the  rest,  —  aunts, 
uncles,  nieces,  and  nephews?" 

"  There  have  been  no  deaths  since  that  of  Jacques." 

"Would  to  God  I  could  see  Domre'my  ! " 

"Cologne  is  a  finer  place." 

"  I  hate  it !  "  she  cried  with  energy.  "  And  I  hate 
the  Rhenish  count  with  his  red  hair  and  beard.  He 
swallows  his  words,  and  says  them  all  in  his  throat; 
and  he  follows  me  about  with  silly  compliments,  and 
frowns  at  every  man  that  shows  me  civility.  It  an 
gered  him  that  Sire  Nicolle  Lowe  should  give  me  my 
beautiful  war-horse,  and  Sire  Aubert  Boulay  a  helmet, 
and  my  Lord  Groignat  a  sword.  The  young  men  who 
are  noble  in  heart,  as  well  as  in  name,  welcome  me 
in  the  spirit  of  brothers,  and  are  eager  to  join  my 
company,  and  fight  for  France  in  the  wars.  What 
will  they  think  of  me  if  I  give  up  my  plans,  and 
break  Jeanne's  vow  by  becoming  a  wife?" 

"You  have  given  them  no  assurance  as  to  the 
future." 

"No,  I  am  to  await  the  marshal's  orders.  He  bids 
me  remain  in  Marville  till  John  the  Baptist's  Day, 
when  he  will  make  his  wishes  known  to  me." 

"It   will   further   his   wishes   to   have   you    become 


146  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Countess  of  Wiirtemberg,"  said  Jean.  "You  could 
never  endure  the  test  of  'Constant  publicity.  Who 
knows  if  Orleans  would  continue  to  be  deceived,  or 
that  the  king  would  not  discover  the  imposture  ?  The 
marshal  must  have  this  in  mind  when  he  chooses  an 
obscure  border  village  for  your  residence,  instead  of 
Orleans,  Paris,  or  Loches." 

"Must  I  give  up  my  purpose  of  finishing  Jeanne's 
work  ?  ' '  she  asked. 

"  That  is  a  fantastic  notion  of  your  lady  abbess,"  he 
replied.  "No  one  lives  who  could  finish  Jeanne's 
work.  None  but  a  fanatic  would  attempt  it." 

"  Then  I  have  no  longer  an  excuse  to  give  my  con 
science,"  she  said  dejectedly. 

"  A  noble  alliance  will  be  your  best  justification," 
said  Jean.  "  St.  Catherine  must  have  inspired  our 
hard-headed  brother  with  the  thought." 

"Could  it  not  be  another  than  Count  Ulric?"  she 
asked  with  a  blush. 

"  Is  there  another?  "  queried  Jean. 

"If  I  must  marry,  there  is  one  my  heart  would 
choose,"  she  answered  shyly.  "  Though  whether  he 
is  of  the  same  mind,  I  cannot  say." 

"Pierre  will  wait  on  no  uncertainty,"  said  Jean. 
"  Suppose  he  had  denounced  you  as  an  impostor,  where 
would  be  your  suitors  now  ?  Count  Ulric  himself 
would  desert  you." 


BLUEBEARD'S  CASTLE.  147 

"I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  she  said  with  a  con 
tracted  brow. 

"  Nor  do  you  realize  that  only  the  marshal's  great 
power  and  wealth,  and  his  influence  with  the  king, 
aided  by  our  co-operation,  can  save  you  from  such 
exposure  by  any  one  of  a  hundred  conceivable  chances. 
We  risk  everything  on  an  uncertainty." 

"  You  torture  me,  brother." 

"It  is  well  that  you  should  face  the  truth,"  he 
answered,  with  little  sympathy  in  his  tone. 

"  I  had  hoped  you  would  be  kinder,  Petit- Jean,"  she 
said. 

"  I  mean  to  be  your  friend  and  helper,"  he  answered. 

"  But  you  do  not  love  me  as  you  used." 

"  Women  count  nothing  of  importance  but  kisses  and 
compliments,"  he  rejoined  impatiently.  "  It  is  for  your 
sake  that  I  am  willing  to  give  up  my  honesty,  and 
burden  my  conscience  with  a  heavy  sin.  Does  that 
count  for  nothing  ?  " 

Claude  answered  with  a  sigh ;  and  when  her  brother 
was  gone  she  leaned  her  arms  upon  the  table,  buried 
her  face  upon  them,  and  found  relief  in  tears  from  the 
torture  of  a  wounded  spirit,  suffering  the  wreck  of  its 
dearest  illusions. 


148  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   X. 

EEBELLIOUS   LOVE. 

,ECAY  had  levelled  the  ancient  castle  of 
Thichiemont ;  but  a  tower  of  later 
Gothic  construction  still  remained, 
and  being  added  to  and  repaired 
had  served  for  some  time  as  a 
hunting-lodge.  Many  stories  were 
told  of  the  scenes  which  had  been  enacted  here  during 
the  life-time  of  the  late  Charles  des  Armoises,  father 
to  the  present  owner,  and  of  a  memorable  season  when 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  his  guest;  and  to  hunting 
and  feasting  had  been  added  the  gorgeous  luxury  in 
which  he  delighted,  and  the  frivolous  diversions  bor 
rowed  in  his  honor  from  the  French  court,  politics 
being  ignored  on  this  neutral  soil. 

The  old  steward,  Nicole  Pasquin,  in  moments  of 
confidence,  would  relate  to  a  crony  installed  on  the 
opposite  side  of  his  hearth,  the  jests  and  scandals, 
wild  deeds  and  bursts  of  riotous  passions,  that  had 
set  cheeks  flushing  and  hearts  throbbing  that  were 
now  cold  in  the  grave.  He  kept  a  stock  of  memories, 


REBELLIOUS  LOVE.  149 

as  he  did  of  ancient  armor  and  cast-off  possessions, 
that  might  be  rubbed  up  and  furbished  into  accept 
ability  ;  but  it  was  his  habit  to  impose  upon  the  vul 
gar  by  a  dignified  silence  which  left  his  discretion 
unimpeached. 

Andre  Gosson,  the  farm  overseer  at  Haraucourt, 
the  modern  estate  which  had  long  since  withdrawn 
the  preponderance  of  wealth  and  social  activity  from 
Thichiemont,  was  the  one  most  often  chosen  as  con 
fidant  by  Nicole;  for  he  it  was  who  needed  to  be 
reminded  of  the  superiority  of  the  past  over  the 
present,  a  truth  he  was  inclined  in  the  face  of  all 
the  facts  to  dispute. 

The  arrival  of  the  new  lord  of  Haraucourt  was  a 
subject  of  inexhaustible  interest  among  his  retainers, 
from  the  wealthiest  of  his  tenants  to  the  swineherd 
in  the  field.  Nicole  and  Andre*  must  needs  •  attempt 
to  fathom  its  significance  by  the  aid  of  many  a  deep 
potation. 

Nicole  maintained  that  a  noble  lord  who  rode  into 
Haraucourt  unattended,  and  supped  alone  in  his 
castle,  must  be  suspected  of  a  leaning  towards  the 
the  church.  None  of  the  race  of  the  Des  Armoises, 
so  far  as  memory  reached,  had  taken  religious  vows, 
or  distinguished  themselves  in  any  other  profession 
than  that  of  arms.  It  was  on  the  contrary  reported, 
under  the  rose,  that  Lord  Charles  had  put  the  thumb- 


150  THE   SHIELD  OF  THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

screws  on  a  wealthy  abbot  to  persuade  him  to  yield 
a  share  of  the  revenues  of  his  property  which  Sire 
des  Armoises  claimed. 

Nicole's  theory  was  supported  by  much  circumstan 
tial  evidence.  The  new  lord  could  read  and  write  ; 
he  never  swore  unless  it  were  in  Greek,  in  which 
heathenish  language  he  had  been  heard  to  speak. 
He  had  even  been  known  to  recite  Greek  poetry,  the 
chaplain  at  the  castle  vouching  for  the  fact.  He 
showed  an  indifference  to  the  condition  of  his  exche 
quer  which  encouraged  all  his  agents  in  the  falsifica 
tion  of  their  accounts. 

Strangest  of  all,  he  made  a  speech  from  the  church 
steps  one  Sunday,  to  a  reluctant  body  of  listeners 
whom  the  parish  priest  had  succeeded  in  assembling 
by  threat  and  exhortation,  and  solemn  assurances  of 
their  lord's  good-will.  Lord  Robert  confided  to  his 
unsympathetic  listeners  that  he  had  been  deeply 
grieved  to  see  that  the  news  of  his  arrival  had  had 
the  effect  of  a  rumor  of  invasion  by  the  ecorcheurs. 

Houses  were  vacated,  ploughs  were  left  standing 
in  the  furrow,  household  treasures  were  concealed  or 
packed  for  transportation  in  a  hurried  flight.  It  was 
a  wild  sauve  qui  pent  to  the  shelter  of  swamp  and 
forest,  more  to  be  trusted  than  the  tender  mercies 
of  their  liege. 

He  promised  the  peasants  that  he  would  in  future 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  151 

deserve  their  confidence  if  they  would  give  it  to 
him ;  declared  that  he  felt  to  them  as  a  father ;  and 
capped  the  climax  of  their  amazement  by  offering  to 
remit  a  year's  rent  from  any  one  who  had  suffered 
unjust  extortion  in  the  past.  Not  a  hind  within  the 
remotest  quarter  of  the  district  but  had  his  tale  of 
woe  ready  by  next  day  to  pour  into  his  ears. 

He  would  sit  like  Charlemagne  in  the  public  square 
accessible  to  all,  holding  the  scales  of  judgment 
impartially  where  he  could ;  but,  yielding  at  last  to 
the  growing  mass  of  evidence  that  his  father  had 
been  a  dastardly  oppressor,  he  called  a  conclusion, 
remitted  all  rents  for  a  year,  and  left  Haraucourt 
for  Thichiemont  where  he  was  now  installed. 

The  consciousness  of  his  presence  in  the  lodge 
gave  zest  to  Nicole's  criticisms  of  his  master.  The 
old  man's  face  bore  a  triangular  scar  as  evidence  of 
a  blow  received  as  a  boy  from  the  hilt  of  Lord 
William's  sword.  The  occasion  of  offense  had  been 
the  surly  expression  of  countenance  which  he  had 
worn  when  standing  by,  as  witness  to  his  father's 
flogging. 

These  were  the  good  old  days  which  Nicole  re 
gretted,  scoffing  at  the  effeminate  notions  which  Lord 
Robert  had  brought  from  the  East,  and  challenging 
his  displeasure  on  the  chance  of  a  servant's  tale-bear 
ing. 


152  THE  SHIELD   OF  THE  FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

The  summer  had  invaded  Thichiemont.  A  climb 
ing  vine  flaunted  its  streamers  from  the  topmost 
battlement  to  signalize  its  conquest,  gained  foot  by 
foot,  of  the  solid  masonry.  Birds  had  built  on  ledge 
and  cornice,  and  upon  the  jutting  gargoyles  whose 
grossly  cynical  faces  had  jeered  at  the  joyous  aban 
donment  of  their  twitterings  and  love-makings,  re 
newed  with  each  generation,  as  if  no  other  had  been 
or  would  be.  The  mother  bird  now  taught  her 
young  to  fly,  and  soon  the  nests  would  be  empty. 

The  lagoons  of  the  marshes  lay  beneath  the  sun, 
like  burnished  brazen  mirrors  set  in  a  frame  of  reeds 
and  rushes  and  brightly  colored  flowers.  On  every 
side  stretched  fields  of  waving  grasses,  golden  yel 
low,  russet  and  red ;  but  the  unwary  traveller  who 
ventured  to  cross  their  level  expanse  might  sink 
in  boggy  pools  or  treacherous  slime.  The  Lord  of 
Thichiemont  occupied  his  leisure  hours  in  consid 
ering  what  might  be  required  of  wealth  and  mechan 
ical  skill  to  drain  these  sloughs,  and  convert  them 
into  fertile  fields  inhabited  by  a  happy  and  indus 
trious  population. 

Thichiemont,  in  its  past  and  present,  was  a  chal 
lenge  to  his  conscience ;  a  wilderness  purposely  kept 
waste,  that  game  might  multiply  to  afford  its  owners 
the  pleasure  man  takes  —  more  brutal  in  this  than  the 
brutes  —  in  maiming  arid  killing  ;  leagues  of  forest 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  153 

untouched  by  the  axe ;  stretches  of  fertile  ground 
unbroken  by  the  plough ;  the  peasants  reduced  to  live 
by  poaching  and  thieving,  or  to  work  as  beasts  of 
burden. 

"  Two  years'  rents  from  Haraucourt  should  work 
the  beginning  of  a  change  in  Thichiemont,"  he  mused, 
finding  satisfaction  in  the  thought. 

The  heat  of  midsummer  drove  old  Nicole  from  his 
seat  by  the  fire,  to  a  bench  under  a  plane-tree  which 
fronted  the  road  over  the  drawbridge,  and  gave  a 
wide  view  to  the  west.  Here  he  sat  daily,  direct 
ing  the  work  of  kitchen,  barn,  and  granary,  as  their 
various  attendants  passed  within  his  notice. 

"Here  comes  Master  home  from  Marville,"  said 
Louis,  the  stable-boy,  dropping  the  bag  of  hay  which 
he  carried  to  run  and  hold  the  stirrup,  the  vision  of 
a  silver-piece  lending  wings  to  his  zeal. 

"  Ho,  Nicole,"  called  the  Lord  of  Thichiemont, 
the  ring  of  a  youthful  excitement  in  his  tone,  "pre 
pare  the  best  in  your  stores  for  supper  today.  I  am 
to  entertain  the  Maid  of  Orleans." 

Nicole  rose  hastily,  urged  to  an  unaccustomed  agi 
tation. 

"Run,  Michael,  run  like  mad,"  he  said  to  the 
greasy  scullion  loitering  in  the  doorway,  "and  tell 
Andre*  Gosson  to  come  hither.  You  will  find  him 
at  the  mill,  if  he  be  not  through  with  his  business 


154  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

and  gone  home.  Tell  him  to  bring  me  all  the  pro 
duce  he  has  collected  for  Haraucourt.  We  have 
guests  coming.  He  shall  be  well  paid." 

Then  the  old  steward  made  the  tour  of  kitchen 
and  pantries;  visited  the  cellarage,  and  tapped  a  cask 
of  ancient  wine,  religiously  preserved  in  memory  of 
Lord  William,  in  whose  time  the  vintage  was  made  ; 
ordered  slaughter  in  pen  and  poultry-yard;  had  dingy 
stores  of  plate  set  out  and  polished,  worm-eaten  tres 
tles  mended,  that  they  might  stand  firm  enough  to 
support  the  boards  of  the  table,  lengthened  to  the 
extent  a  banquet  should  require;  and  when  all  was 
going  forward  as  he  planned,  he  welcomed  Andre*  to 
a  seat  upon  his  bench  and  a  share  in  his  satisfaction. 

"  Well  done,  Gosson,"  he  said,  scrutinizing  the 
loaded  sledge  that  stood  before  the  door,  drawn  by 
two  panting  peasants  who  wore  over  the  neck  and 
about  the  chest  a  wooden  frame  like  a  yoke  to  which 
stout  ropes  were  fastened.  "  This  will  serve,  I  think. 
I  know  not  how  many  are  to  be  in  the  company ; 
but  if  half  of  those  we  saw  at  Marville  should  come, 
we  have  not  spits  enough  to  roast  for  them,  or 
trenchers  enough  to  serve  from.  No  matter.  I  have 
sent  an  order  to  Isaac  the  Jew  at  Marville  for  all 
we  shall  require.  I  have  not  a  crown  to  pay  him  ; 
but  he  may  get  it  from  my  lord,  as  he  would  not 
from  his  father." 


KEBELLIOtJS   LOVE.  155 

The  Lord  of  Thichiemont  chanced  to  pass  at  this 
moment,  and  noticing  the  group,  drew  near  with 
anger  in  his  eyes. 

"  How  is  this  ? "  he  cried,  frowning  at  his  ancient 
servitor.  "I  have  not  before  seen  men  harnessed  like 
beasts  in  my  service.  Let  it  not  be  seen  again,  here 
or  at  Haraucourt." 

Gosson  shared  the  lightning  of  his  glance. 

"It  is  the  easiest  way  for  them,"  he  stammered; 
"  far  easier  than  to  bear  it  on  their  shoulders." 

"  Are  there  no  horses  or  mules  to  be  had  for  hire  ?  " 
asked  Des  Armoises. 

"  There  is  no  money  in  this  house  to  pay  for  them," 
growled  Nicole. 

Robert  flung  him  his  purse.  "That  need  be  no 
excuse,"  he  said.  "Pay  the  men  each  a  crown,  and 
let  them  go." 

The  steward  obeyed,  fingering  the  gold  as  if  it 
burned  his  fingers. 

"How  many  shall  we  count  upon  for  the  banquet, 
my  Lord?"  he  asked,  willing  to  ignore  the  unpleasant 
incident. 

"You  may  lay  a  service  for  three,"  replied  Des 
Armoises,  turning  upon  his  heel  to  hasten  across  the 
drawbridge,  unconscious  of  the  consternation  which 
he  left  behind  him.  The  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  had 
reached  his  ears,  and  soon  the  riders  became  visible, 


156  THE   SHIELD  OF  THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

a  woman  in  a  crimson  riding-gown,  and  her  com 
panion,  a  gray-robed  priest. 

"Is  that  the  Maid  of  Orleans?"  cried  Andr£  star 
ing.  "  She  looks  like  any  lady  of  quality  with  the 
plume  in  her  hat,  and  the  fur  trimmings  on  her  petti 
coat.  I  thought  she  went  in  armor  with  her  squire 
and  page/' 

"She  will  give  up  fighting  the  English  now,  I 
suppose,"  said  Nicole,  hoarse  with  the  effort  to  con 
ceal  his  deep  vexation  by  a  tone  of  indifference.  "  She 
is  to  wed  a  Rhenish  count.  I  made  sure  he  would 
be  with  her,  and  a  train  of  knights  and  ladies  in 
their  company,  some  from  Metz,  and  some  from  Lux 
embourg.  Times  have  changed.  Never  was  I  bidden 
to  serve  for  three  in  the  hall  at  Thichiemont." 

He  retreated  within  doors,  unwilling  to  witness  the 
arrival  which  had  so  overturned  his  expectations. 

Gosson  waited  until  his  master  had  entered  the 
lodge  with  his  guests,  then  he  recalled  his  peasants 
who  dared  enter  no  protest  against  an  authority  known 
of  old  and  not  to  be  undermined  on  the  instant,  and 
accompanying  his  sledge-load  of  provisions,  he  took 
his  reluctant  way  to  Haraucourt,  grumbling  that 
Nicole's  folly  had  added  a  league  to  the  distance. 

The  master  of  Thichiemont  sat  at  table  while  a 
tall  clock  fastened  to  the  outer  wall  showed  by  its 
single  hand  the  hour  of  four.  Nicole  had  been 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  157 

punctual  to  the  supper  hour,  which  in  the  old  days 
had  been  advanced  or  retarded  according  to  the  for 
tunes  of  the  hunt,  sometimes  extending  to  an  all- 
night  revel. 

Des  Armoises  was  undecided  whether  to  be  vexed 
or  amused  by  the  peculiarities  which  he  noticed  in 
the  service  of  the  meal,  and  which  he  credited  to 
Nicole's  long  retirement,  not  in  the  least  recognizing 
the  intended  sarcasm. 

The  table,  covered  with  dilapidated  damask,  stretched 
the  full  length  of  the  great  hall,  furnished  on  one 
side  with  settles  which  would  have  accommodated  a 
hundred  guests,  and  on  the  other  with  dressers  heaped 
with  plate  for  the  convenience  of  the  servants  who 
handed  the  dishes  in  their  order,  presided  over  by 
Nicole.  One  end  of  the  board  was  occupied  by  a 
roasted  boar,  and  the  other  by  an  enormous  pasty, 
containing  two  goslings,  three  capons,  six  chickens, 
and  a  dozen  pigeons,  boiled  with  savory  herbs.  Nicole 
had  given  hours  to  the  construction  of  this  master 
piece,  and  had  found  relief  for  his  wounded  feelings 
in  every  extra  span  which  he  added  to  its  height 
and  breadth. 

For  the  rest,  a  few  nuts,  some  native  fruits,  and  the 
superlative  old  wine,  furnished  forth  the  feast,  supple 
mented  as  it  was  by  the  steward's  frequent  apologies. 
Lack  of  time  and  helpers  skilled  in  the  work,  he  made 


158  THE   SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

bold  to  declare,  alone  had  prevented  his  serving  such  a 
distinguished  company  as  he  had  often  done  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  and  other  dignitaries,  with  the  best  efforts 
of  the  most  accomplished  cooks ;  roasts  gilded  and  cov 
ered  with  sugar-plums  and  pomegranate  seeds ;  fish 
cooked  in  parsley  and  rolled  in  powdered  ginger;  jel 
lies  of  red  and  white  formed  to  represent  the  crests  of 
every  nobleman  present ;  plums  stewed  in  rose-water, 
and  pies  covered  with  gold-leaf. 

Claude  laughed  in  girlish  enjoyment  of  the  ludicrous 
situation  :  her  host's  serious  face  ;  the  old  major-domo's 
rusty  garments,  wild  hair,  and  neglected  beard  con 
trasting  oddly  with  the  exaggerated  dignity  of  his 
deportment ;  the  dilapidated  grandeur  of  the  service 
of  plate  and  linen ;  and  the  ineffectual  efforts  of  the 
three  convives  against  the  gigantic  pasty,  which  re 
mained  like  an  impregnable  fortress  showing  the  scars 
of  an  ineffectual  attack. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  Des  Armoises  took 
his  guests  to  walk  about  the  courtyard  and  terraces, 
whence  Father  Ambrose  shortly  afterwards  withdrew 
himself  in  order  to  examine  the  ruins  of  the  chapel 
which  had  been  built  in  Oriental  style  by  Lord  Raoul 
Des  Armoises,  the  Crusader,  whose  bones  reposed  in  a 
demolished  crypt  beneath.  Robert  willingly  left  these 
reminiscences  of  the  past  to  the  solitary  contemplation 
of  the  priest,  and  returned  with  a  sigh  of  relief  to 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  159 

Claude's  side,  where  she  stood  watching  the  level  flight 
of  a  heron  that  wheeled  above  the  trees.  The  warm 
wind  brought  the  balsamic  scent  of  the  forest  upon  it, 
and  the  transparent  air  quivered  with  the  flight  of 
dancing  gnats  like  golden  motes  in  the  sunbeams. 

"  This  is  a  perfect  day,"  said  Robert ;  "  one  perfect 
day  of  life ;  but,  alas,  how  soon  to  be  ended." 

"It  is  always  so,"  said  Claude  ;  "a  happy  time  flies 
fast,  and  sad  hours  drag." 

"  All  time  is  happy  for  you,"  he  answered. 

She  sighed,  and  strayed  onwards,  plucking  idly  at 
the  bushes  that  thrust  vagrant  branches  across  the 
path,  as  if  forbidding  progress  along  its  unfrequented 
way.  The  stoutest  of  these  Des  Armoises  held  aside 
for  her  to  pass,  while  he  submitted  to  the  blow  of  the 
recoil  as  if  indifferent  to  the  smart,  or  welcoming  it  as 
an  offset  to  the  pain  in  his  heart.  The  sun  was  fast 
slipping  down  the  western  slope,  while  the  synchro 
nous  lengthening  of  the  shadows  of  tower  and  tree 
gave  the  measure  of  its  decline. 

The  narrow,  overgrown  pathway  led  to  an  open  rec 
tangular  plot  of  level  greensward,  set  about  with  an 
cient  trees,  and  furnished  at  one  end  with  a  marble 
bench  which  invited  to  repose,  since  it  became  evident 
that  the  limit  of  progress  in  this  direction  had  been 
reached.  This  clearing  marked  the  site  of  a  former 
tennis-court,  long  abandoned  and  forgotten. 


160  THE   SHIELD  OF   THE   FLEUE-DE-LIS. 

"  I  have  never  chanced  upon  this  spot  before,"  said 
Des  Armoises,  looking  curiously  about  him.  "It  is 
like  a  bit  of  Arcady." 

"  It  is  as  peaceful  as  Paradise,"  responded  Claude. 
"I  wish  I  might  be  forever  in  such  a  place." 

Des  Armoises  checked  the  reply  that  rose  impul 
sively  to  his  lips ;  and  bending  a  troubled  gaze  upon 
his  companion,  he  said,  "  I  have  a  confession  to  make, 
Jeanne.  Grant  me  pardon  if  it  offends." 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  marble  bench,  removed 
her  hat,  and  allowed  the  sunbeams,  as  they  filtered 
through  the  oak-leaves,  to  fall  in  a  golden  shower  upon 
her  hair.  She  inclined  her  head  with  a  wan  smile  as 
she  replied,  "  I  have  no  fear  of  your  offending  by  any 
thing  you  can  say." 

"  I  am  predestined  to  do  so,"  he  answered ;  "  for 
whether  you  are  to  marry  the  Count  of  Wiirtemburg 
from  choice  or,  as  I  have  guessed,  from  motives  of 
policy  forced  upon  you  by  others,  my  love  for  you,  to 
be  guiltless  of  offense,  should  be  unconfessed.  I  must 
dare  your  displeasure,  and  take  advantage  of  this  pre 
cious  moment,  which  I  know  too  well  can  never  return, 
to  tell  you  that  you  are  the  one  peerless  woman  in  this 
world  for  me,  whom  to  love  hopelessly  is  a  happier  des 
tiny  than  to  win  another.  I  ask  for  nothing ;  I  will 
not  woo  even  a  look  of  kindness,  for  I  am  no  Tristan 
treacherously  seeking  that  which  I  can  not  openly 
claim." 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  161 

He  paused,  meeting  Claude's  uplifted,  smiling  eyes. 

"Do  not  speak,  Jeanne,"  he  added  hurriedly.  "Do 
not  tell  me  that  you  forgive  me,  for  I  feel  my  resolu 
tion  melting  like  the  wings  of  Icarus  in  the  sunshine. 
If  you  should  be  too  pitiful,  I  should  forget  your 
name,  your  past,  all  that  I  most  admire  in  you,  and 
degrade  my  adoration  for  you  into  a  selfish  human 
passion  that  will  have  all  and  give  all,  defying  God 
and  destiny.  I  have  known  the  madness  of  such  a 
love,  and  have  felt  its  thorns,  and  tasted  the  dust  and 
ashes  of  repentance.  I  must  not  now  relinquish  my 
highest  ideal,  and  yield  again  to  Circe's  enchantment." 

Claude's  look  changed  quickly  as  if  the  shadow  of 
a  passing  cloud  had  fallen  upon  her  face ;  and  she  rose, 
saying  with  a  mocking  inflection,  "If  I  am  not  to 
answer,  messire,  I  must  not  listen ;  nor  did  I  come  to 
Thichiemont  for  this." 

"You  remind  me  that  I  abuse  your  acceptance  of 
my  hospitality,"  said  Robert.  "  The  despair  I  have 
suffered  since  I  heard  of  your  approaching  marriage 
must  be  my  excuse.  I  have  fought  as  if  with  fiends 
in  this  dreary  solitude,  which  you  have  now  conse 
crated  for  me  by  your  presence.  But  I  am  a  man 
again.  Let  us  forget  what  I  have  spoken." 

There  were  unshed  tears  in  Claude's  eyes ;  but  Rob 
ert  observed  only  the  enigmatical  smile  with  which  she 
regarded  him,  as  she  said,  "  Most  willingly ;  and  in  re- 


162  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUli-DE-LIS. 

turn  I  will  confide  to  you  that  my  marriage  is,  as  you 
imagine,  a  necessity  forced  upon  me.  I  have  never 
been  free  to  follow  the  dictates  of  my  own  heart; 
but  in  this  I  am  happy,  since  I  please  my  brothers, 
and  take  the  course  that  duty  has  marked  for  me." 

Des  Armoises  sighed  as  he  replied,  "  You  will  leave 
France,  and  you  will  forget  France ;  Jeanne  the  Pu- 
celle  will  be  only  a  name,  as  if  she  had  indeed  died 
at  Rouen." 

"  Yes,"  said  Claude  ;  "  a  breath  of  wind  to  stir  men's 
lips,  and  be  forgotten.  Another  confidence  I  will  give 
you.  Father  Ambrose  has  promised  me  that,  if  at  the 
last  my  courage  fails  me,  he  will  contrive  that  I  shall 
escape  to  the  shelter  of  a  convent.  In  any  case,  this  is 
our  last  farewell,  messire.  We  shall  not  meet  again." 

"  God  bless  you,"  said  Robert,  bending  above  her 
hand,  and  kissing  it  fervently.  "  I  will  come  here  and 
think  of  you  and  of  this  moment,  which  with  all  its 
torment  is  happier  than  any  that  can  follow." 

A  gray  robe  was  visible  through  the  trees;  and 
Father  Ambrose  came  into  sight,  walking  rapidly  with 
a  preoccupied  expression,  which  changed  into  a  fur 
tive  smile  as  Des  Armoises  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  The  day  wanes,"  said  the  priest ;  "  and  the  horses 
are  being  made  ready  for  the  return." 

Claude  stooped  for  a  moment  above  the  marble  bench 
to  reassume  her  hat  which  lay  there ;  while  at  the  same 


REBELLIOUS   LOVE.  163 

a 

time  she  detached  a  silver  medal  from  a  tiny  chain 
which  she  wore  about  her  neck,  and  placed  it  carefully 
upon  the  seat  which  she  quitted.  It  was  a  small  sil 
ver  shield,  bearing  on  one  side  the  arms  of  the  family 
of  Du  Lis,  and  on  the  other  the  words  Te  Amo. 


164  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   XL 

A  MESSAGE. 

>AUCOULEURS  became  a  Mecca  of 
pilgrimage  when  it  was  learned  that 
Jeanne's  brothers  had  returned,  bear 
ing  letters  and  messages  from  the 
Maid,  to  Orleans,  to  the  king,  and 
to  the  people  of  her  native  place ; 
and  that  the  messengers  were  lodged  on  their  way 
to  Loches  at  the  expense  of  the  governor  of  the  town. 
It  was  rumored  that  Jean  du  Lis  had  been  promised 
the  appointment  of  Provost  of  Vaucouleurs;  but  the 
intelligence  which  swallowed  up  all  else  in  amaze 
ment  was  that  of  the  approaching  marriage  of  the 
Maid. 

Domre'my  stood  aghast  at  the  news.  Isabel  at  first 
vigorously  denied  it,  and  then  immediately  fell  to 
weeping  to  think  that  she  had  not  been  bidden  to  the 
wedding.  Father  Fulbert,  to  whose  dull  ears  the  in 
formation  was  imparted  by  a  zealous  neophyte  from 
the  convent,  astonished  the  pious  youth  by  staring  a 
moment  indignantly  in  his  face,  and  then  administering 


A  MESSAGE.  165 

a  resounding  blow  which  sent  him  staggering  against 
the  wall.  "  Lies  and  villainy !  "  cried  the  old  priest. 
"The  world  is  full  of  slanders  against  the  chosen  of 
the  Lord."  Then  he  fell  into  a  violent  fit  of  weeping, 
which  was  the  cause,  it  was  commonly  thought,  of  the 
stroke  of  apoplexy  of  which  he  died  the  following  week. 

Isabel  rode  on  a  pillion  behind  Durand  Laxart  as 
far  as  Petit-Bury,  where  Pierre's  wife  had  been  con 
fined  in  his  absence  at  the  house  of  her  uncle,  and 
where  the  whole  family  assembled  on  the  occasion 
of  the  christening,  which  had  been  fixed  for  the  day 
succeeding  the  father's  arrival. 

The  event  which  called  them  together  was  almost 
forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  greeting,  comment,  and 
question  which  filled  the  house  with  a  hubbub  as  of 
swarming  bees.  Pierre's  wife,  Jeanne  of  Prouville, 
who  sat  propped  up  in  state  in  the  great  bed  of  the 
guest-chamber,  noticed  with  indignation  that  the  con 
gratulations  which  should  fall  to  her  share  were  given 
to  Isabel,  and  that  Jeanne,  and  not  the  latest  addition 
to  the  family  of  Du  Lis,  was  the  object  of  all  thoughts. 

When  the  priest  in  the  midst  of  the  ceremony 
demanded  the  name  of  the  child,  an  unexpected  dis 
cussion  occurred. 

"As  to  that,  there  is  only  one  name  possible," 
cried  Isabel.  "  She  must  be  named  Jeanne  in  honor 
of  my  famous  child." 


166  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

"I  have  no  objection,"  replied  the  young  mother, 
"  for  it  is  the  name  I  had  meant  to  give  her,  being 
my  own.  You  may  call  Jeanne  Dare  her  godmother, 
if  you  choose." 

"No,"  said  Pierre.  "I  forbid  it.  She  shall  be 
called  Catherine." 

"  You  cannot  be  serious,  Pierre,"  exclaimed  his  wife ; 
"  we  have  one  Catherine  and  two  Jeans.  Why  repeat 
another  name  in  the  family?" 

"Call  the  child  Claude,"  said  Jean,  regarding  his 
brother  with  significant  displeasure.  "  Our  sister 
Jeanne  took  that  name  in  the  convent,  and  loves  still 
to  be  called  by  it.  It  is  one  that  is  new  in  our 
family,  a  pretty  name,  and  suitable  as  well  for  a  man 
as  a  woman.  It  commemorates  our  sister's  reappear 
ance  better  than  any  other  title  we  could  give  a  god 
child  of  hers." 

"  No ;  that,  I  think,  the  name  of  Catherine  does," 
answered  Pierre  doggedly ;  "  and  that  is  the  babe's 
name  or  none." 

With  this,  the  service  proceeded  to  a  close,  Pierre's 
strange  mood  still  clouding  his  wife's  serenity. 

"  That  was  a  kind  thought  of  yours,  my  son ! "  ex 
claimed  Isabel.  "  You  have  a  fond  and  faithful  heart. 
No  one  else  to-day  has  remembered  your  sister  Cath 
erine." 

"Ask  my  brother  Jean  if  she  has  not  been  often 


A  MESSAGE.  167 

in  his  thoughts,"  rejoined  Pierre,  regarding  Jean  as 
he  spoke  with  a  sinister  smile. 

Isabel  could  not  long  allow  her  attention  to  wander 
from  the  subject  uppermost  in  her  mind.  "To  think 
that  Jeanne  is  to  wed  a  count,"  she  said.  "I  must 
go  to  the  wedding  if  I  have  to  crawl  on  hands  and 
knees.  How  far  is  it  to  Arlon,  Durand?" 

"  It  is  twice  as  far  as  Metz,"  he  answered. 

"  You  could  never  make  the  journey,"  interposed 
Jean  quickly.  "  The  roads  are  not  safe.  No  one 
knows  where  the  Scorcheurs  may  next  descend  with 
ravage  and  pillage.  Wait  till  I  come  back  with  my 
answer  from  the  king.  I  will  try  then  to  arrange  a 
meeting." 

Isabel  wiped  her  eyes.  "I  have  waited  till  I  can 
wait  no  longer,"  she  said.  "Unless  I  see  her,  I  can 
not  yet  realize  that  Jeanne  is  alive,  and  that  you  have 
talked  with  her  face  to  face.  How  did  she  look? 
Was  she  pale?  Had  she  fallen  away  in  flesh?  Was 
she  happy  or  sad  ?  " 

"  As  happy  as  a  lark,"  answered  Jean ;  "  and  looks 
much  the  same  as  formerly.  A  trifle  stouter  and 
more  ruddy,  perhaps." 

"A  little  taller,  too,  I  think,"  said  Pierre  gravely; 
"and  her  hair  a  shade  lighter." 

Jean  frowned  fiercely  at  his  brother,  and,  drawing 
him  aside,  engaged  him  in  earnest  conversation,  the 


168  THE   SHIELD   OP   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

result  of  which  was  declared  in  Pierre's  relinquishing 
the  mission  to  Loches  to  his  brother,  while  agreeing 
to  share  its  expenses. 

The  family  gathering  dispersed  with  expressions 
of  mutual  good-will,  heightened  by  the  consciousness 
that  each  was  a  sharer  in  a  distinction  contingent 
upon  his  relationship  to  the  famous  Maid  of  France. 

Isabel  rode  homeward  deep  in  a  project  which  she 
did  not  dare  to  confide  to  her  companions,  but  to 
whose  execution  she  addressed  herself  with  the 
shrewd  pertinacity  of  a  daughter  of  Lorraine.  Meet 
ing  Robin  of  Greux  in  front  of  her  house,  she  found 
means  to  speak  to  him  unnoticed. 

"  You  are  the  man  I  had  in  mind,"  she  said,  "  to 
help  me  in  a  difficult  undertaking,  that  will  require 
courage  and  discretion,  and  the  ownership  of  two 
stout  horses.  If  you  will  .meet  me  at  nightfall  in  the 
hillside  pasture  yonder,  I  will  tell  you  my  meaning 
with  more  particularity.  Meantime,  keep  it  secret 
from  every  living  soul." 

Flattered  by  the  confidence,  Robin  swore  by  the 
holy  rood  to  observe  the  utmost  discretion  and  punc 
tuality  ;  and,  relying  on  this  promise,  Isabel  stole 
out-of-doors  in  the  fragrant  dusk  of  the  late  summer 
night,  walked  through  the  long,  rustling  grass  of  the 
churchyard,  and  up  a  winding  path  to  a  sloping 
meadow  set  about  with  a  fringe  of  thicket.  Three 


A  MESSAGE.  169 

sheep  huddled  in  a  corner  of  the  fence-rail  were  the 
sole  occupants  of  this  inclosure,  to  which  in  the  day 
time  a  milch  cow  had  entrance  ;  for  the  flocks  of 
the  family  of  Dare  had  dwindled  with  the  increase 
of  more  permanent  possessions,  and  since  Isabel  dwelt 
alone  with  her  husband  in  the  homestead,  a  neighbor's 
child  was  hired  for  a  few  deniers  to  drive  the  sheep 
back  and  forth  between  brook  and  pasture,  —  a  neg 
lectful  attendance,  which  set  old  Jacques  lamenting 
the  closely  calculated  industry  of  former  days. 

The  animals,  not  knowing  Isabel  as  their  owner, 
fled  at  her  approach ;  and  she  sank  upon  the  grass 
in  the  cover  of  the  thicket  and  waited,  listening  to 
their  restless  movements,  to  the  crackling  of  a  dry 
twig  here  and  there,  the  shrill  voices  of  frogs  in  the 
valley,  and  the  hoot  of  an  owl  in  the  forest  on  the 
hill.  Although  she  strained  her  ears,  she  could  dis 
tinguish  no  other  sound.  Robin  had  failed  her. 
This  she  realized  with  a  sense  of  bitter  disappoint 
ment;  and  rising  stiff  and  weary  from  her  cramped 
position  upon  the  dewy  grass,  she  took  her  way 
across  the  open  square  of  starlit  meadow.  At  the 
same  time  a  figure  rose  to  meet  her  from  the  oppo 
site  shade. 

"Why  have  you  delayed?  "  asked  Robin,  stretching 
his  arms  with  a  yawn.  "  I  have  been  waiting  here 
for  an  hour  under  the  hedge-row." 


170  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"I  could  not  come  before,"  said  Isabel,  not  admit 
ting  the  futility  of  her  wasted  moments  of  strained 
expectancy.  "  You  have  been  fast  asleep  here  upon 
the  grass." 

"  I  may  have  had  a  wink  or  two,  since  I  am  seldom 
out  of  bed  at  this  hour,"  he  answered ;  "  but  I  slept 
with  one  eye  open,  expecting  you  every  moment. 
What  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  Arlon,"  she  said.  "  I 
shall  die  if  I  may  not  see  my  daughter  Jeanne.  My 
sons  will  not  listen  to  my  going ;  and  Durand  believes 
that  I  should  wait  until  she  sends  for  me.  But  go 
I  must,  and  at  once." 

"I  am  the  man  to  serve  you,"  cried  Robin  with 
alacrity,  slapping  his  thigh  to  give  emphasis  to  his 
words.  "  Ever  since  I  heard  she  was  to  be  a  countess, 
I  have  been  cudgelling  my  brains  to  contrive  how  I 
might  gain  the  notice  of  Jeanne  Dare.  Nothing  could 
serve  my  purpose  better  than  to  go  in  your  company ; 
for  when  she  gives  you  the  seat  of  honor  at  the  wed 
ding  feast,  a  place  may  be  found  for  me  above  the  salt; 
and  when  she  takes  you  to  Cologne  to  live  in  her  castle, 
I  may  get  the  place  of  seneschal  or  chamberlain.  When 
shall  we  start?" 

"  At  once,"  replied  Isabel.  "  I  have  left  word  with 
Aveline  to  visit  my  house  early  in  the  morning.  When 
she  finds  me  gone  she  will  stay  and  care  for  Jacques. 


A  MESSAGE.  171 

I  have  a  purse  of  money  in  my  belt  which  I  have 
hoarded 'piece  by  piece  to  pay  for  masses  to  be  said  for 
my  children  who  are  gone  ;  bat  Jacques  and  Catherine 
will  not  grudge  it  to  me  if  I  use  it  now  to  see  my 
Jeanne,  for  the  prayers  we  said  for  her  when  we 
believed  her  dead  may  surely  be  placed  to  the  credit 
of  the  two  who  need  them." 

"  It  would  take  a  wiser  head  than  mine  to  settle  the 
debit  and  credit  in  such  a  case,"  answered  Robin  doubt 
fully.  "  I  cannot  tell  what  a  churchman's  answer 
might.be;  but  as  a  man  of  the  world  I  commend  your 
decision,  for  money  is  the  first  requisite  for  our  jour 
ney.  I  will  saddle  Grizzle,  and  catcli  Dapple  who  is  in 
the  field,  and  meet  you  in  the  lane  by  the  mill-pond 
before  the  Wagoner  is  an  hour  lower." 

This  promise  of  dispatch  was  the  sweetest  satisfac 
tion  to  Isabel's  impatience ;  but  for  all  her  eager  haste, 
she  lingered  a  moment  in  the  churchyard  to  bend  above 
the  slab  which  bore  the  name  of  Jacques  Dare. 

A  tear  fell  upon  the  stone.  "Alas,"  she  sighed, 
"  a  mother's  heart  is  torn  by  wounds  as  many  in  num 
ber  as  the  children  she  has  borne ;  but  the  living  must 
be  put  before  the  dead." 

Two  moving  figures  might  have  been  seen  at  mid 
night,  if  any  had  been  abroad  to  observe  them,  climb 
ing  the  dusty  white  highway  till  it  met  the  horizon, 
where  for  a  moment  their  outlines  were  darkly  defined 


172  THE   SHIELD   OP  THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

against  the  broad  luminosity  of  starlit  sky,  and  then 
lost  from  view  in  the  shadows  of  the  verdant  valley. 

The  master  of  Haraucourt  was  weary  of  country 
solitudes  where  ungrateful  peasants  thwarted  his  efforts 
at  reforming  the  condition  of  their  lives  by  a  stolid 
indifference  to  his  plans  and  an  invincible  distrust  of 
his  purposes ;  where  his  agents  returned  his  confidence 
by  systematically  defrauding  him;  and  where  Nature 
herself  had  become  unfriendly  to  his  disenchanted 
spirit.  When  the  hay  was  harvested,  Des  Armoises 
turned  his  back  on  Haraucourt,  meaning  to  ride  to 
Metz  by  way  of  Villette,  where  he  had  a  pressing 
invitation  to  visit  his  friend  Jean  de  Thoneletil  and 
his  fair  wife.  He  set  forth  on  a  day  in  early  August 
when  the  air  was  full  of  a  languorous  warmth  which 
drew  forth  spicy  odors  from  thicket  and  forest,  and  set 
the  bees  buzzing,  embarrassed  by  the  choice  of  sweets, 
among  a  wilderness  of  flowers.  The  landscape  in  the 
maturity  of  summer  loveliness  shone  in  the  mellow 
light  as  if  seen  through  a  golden  veil.  Robert  felt  his 
heart  expand,  in  spite  of  himself,  with  the  joy  of  mere 
existence.  He  thought  of  the  seductive  blue  eyes  of 
the  Lady  of  Villette,  and  in  contrast  to  them  recalled 
the  tender  reserve  of  Eudeline's  glance  ;  and  half  un 
consciously  he  hummed  the  refrain  of  a  popular  pas 
toral  which  ran :  — 


A   MESSAGE.  173 

"  Si  tu  peux  avoir  ta  bergere 
Oserai-tu  demander  mieux  ?  " 

"  We  ask  too  much  of  life,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  Frois- 
sart's  shepherdess  teaches  the  true  philosophy:  — 

"  Et  la  bergerette 
Disait  en  sa  chansonette 

Si  je  veuil  estre  ta  miette 
Oserai-tu  demander  mieux  ?  " 

These  words  he  sang  so  gayly  that  the  woodland  alleys 
re-echoed  with  the  sound ;  and  a  traveller,  lost  in  their 
mazes,  blessed  his  good  fortune,  and  spurred  his  weary 
horse  to  come  up  with  the  singer,  meeting  him  at  the 
crossing  of  the  roads  where  four  corners  marked  the 
points  of  compass. 

"  Praise  God  and  St.  Re*mi,"  said  the  newcomer. 
"  I  have  found  you,  Sire  Des  Armoises,  when  I  hardly 
hoped  to  live  to  reach  your  castle.  My  horse  is  on  his 
last  legs ;  my  stomach  is  as  empty  as  a  bagpipe ;  and 
I  tremble  so  with  weakness  that  I  can  hardly  sit  up 
right  in  the  saddle." 

This  address  came  from  the  lips  of  Robin  of  Greux, 
whose  pinched  and  pallid  features  and  weather-stained 
apparel,  as  well  as  the  jaded  appearance  of  his  horse, 
bore  witness  to  the  truth  of  his  words.  Des  Ar 
moises  looked  with  surprise  at  the  unwelcome  ap 
parition,  and  cast  his  glance  along  the  highroad  as  if 
meditating  escape ;  but  Robin,  divining  his  purpose, 


174  THE    SHIELD    OF  THE    FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

pressed  near  him,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  pom 
mel  of  his  saddle,  while  he  said,  "  I  have  a  message 
to  you  from  the  Maid  of  Orleans." 

A  quick  flush  rose  to  Des  Armoises's  cheek,  and 
a  sudden  light  to  his  eyes,  as  he  cried,  "  Out  with  it, 
man!  Tell  it  in  as  few  words  as  possible.  I  know 
you  of  old,  and  have  no  mind  to  be  deluged  with  a 
flood  of  empty  verbiage,  out  of  which  I  must  sift  a 
few  grains  of  sense.  Quick,  deliver  your  message." 

Robin  folded  his  hands  upon  his  stomach  with  a 
grimace.  "  I  cannot  talk  fasting,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
will  take  me  home  with  you  and  feed  me,  I  will 
tell  you  all  you  want  to  know." 

"  I  am  travelling  to  Villette,"  said  Des  Armoises ; 
"but  yonder  lies  the  way  to  my  hunting-lodge  in 
the  forest.  My  steward  will  furnish  you  with  meat 
and  drink,  since  I  will  give  you  an  order  upon  him. 
Meantime,  here  is  a  purse  which  is  yours  when  you 
shall  have  discharged  your  commission." 

"  Keep  your  money  for  the  present,"  said  Robin. 
"  My  story  includes  the  adventures  of  six  long  and 
tedious  weeks,  and  the  wisest  man  in  the  world  could 
not  tell  it  in  ten  words.  If  you  have  no  time  to  wait 
for  it,  let  it  go.  The  message  was  of  no  great  impor 
tance." 

"  Of  that  you  are  not  fitted  to  judge,"  replied 
Robert  in  vexation.  "But  since  you  value  nothing 


A  MESSAGE.  175 

so  much  as  liberty  to  prate  uninterrupted,  I  will 
humor  you  so  far  as  to  turn  out  of  my  way  and 
spend  one  night  at  Thichiemont." 

"  Ha !  "  cried  Robin,  "  that  is  one  of  the  words  of 
my  message.  Jeanne  made  me  repeat  it  a  dozen  times 
for  fear  I  might  forget." 

"For  God's  sake  tell  me  the  rest,"  urged  Des  Ar- 
moises  impetuously.  "  You  shall  have  a  gold  crown 
for  each  word." 

Robin's  small  eyes  shone  covetously,  but  he  shook 
his  head  with  obstinate  decision.  "When  you  hear 
all,  you  will  give  me  that  and  more,"  he  said.  "  The 
cathedral  of  Toul  was  not  built  in  a  day ;  haste 
makes  waste ;  and  he  who  goes  too  fast  falls  over 
the  stile.  There  is  a  time  to  talk  and  a  time  to 
keep  silent;  and  hunger  is  a  foe  to  wit." 

"  Follow  at  your  leisure,  then,"  said  Des  Armoises. 
"It  is  a  straight  road,  and  you  cannot  miss  it.  I  will 
precede  you  to  urge  Nicole  to  instant  attention  to 
your  needs." 

"  You  cannot  do  better,  messire,"  responded  Robin 
with  dignity ;  "  and  I  beg  you  will  see  that  Grizzle 
has  an  extra  measure  of  oats,  for  the  poor  beast  is 
as  nearly  starved  as  his  master." 

An  hour  later  Robin  sat  at  table  in  a  small  arched 
chamber  of  Thichiemont  tower,  an  empty  trencher 
before  him,  and  a  full  mug  of  wine  at  his  side, 


176  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

while  his  face  bore  a  look  of  beatific  contentment, 
expressed  also  in  the  mellifluous  flow  of  his  sentences. 
Des  Armoises  paced  the  floor,  his  head  bent  and  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  listening,  with  an  effort  at 
patient  attention,  to  the  leisurely  progress  of  the  nar 
rative. 

"When  Isabel  Rome'e  had  come  to  this  decision, 
nothing  remained  but  to  put  it  into  execution,"  said 
Robin  bombastically.  "And  though  I  knew  that  the 
road  from  Metz  to  Arlon  was  beset  with  dangers,  and 
liable  at  any  moment  to  the  attack  of  Scorcheurs  and 
retondeurs,  I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  promise  her 
the  protection  of  my  company." 

"  Where  did  you  gain  your  information  ?  "  inquired 
Robert.  "  Of  late  we  of  Lorraine  have  been  spared 
the  visits  of  these  robbers." 

"  Wait  till  you  hear  my  story,"  said  Robin.  "  I  have 
a  piece  of  paper  here  that  will  cause  you  to  open  your 
eyes.  Isabel  was  so  mad  with  impatience  to  see  her 
daughter  Jeanne  that  fear  of  the  devil  could  not 
restrain  her.  It  began  pouring  rain  by  noontime,  and 
as  dusk  came  on  we  lost  the  way,  as  I  did  again  to-day, 
and  we  floundered  through  bog  and  mire,  forded 
brooks,  and  climbed  slippery  hills,  till  I  thought  we 
both  would  die  of  weariness ;  when  at  last  a  light 
shone  out  of  the  forest,  and  we  made  our  way  towards 
it,  thinking  it  to  be  a  house.  Well,  messire,  in  a 


A   MESSAGE.  177 

moment  it  was  as  if  we  had  entered  hell,  and  all 
its  fiends  were  let  loose  about  us.  They  rose  up 
from  behind  bushes  and  rocks,  armed  with  arquebuses 
and  arbalets ;  and  one  tall  fellow  gave  me  a  blow 
which  sent  me  sprawling  on  the  ground,  while  another 
pulled  Isabel  from  her  horse,  stole  her  belt  of  money, 
and  was  carrying  her  off  in  spite  of  her  screams,  when 
with  great  presence  of  mind  I  called  out,  though  flat 
on  my  back  in  the  mud  with  an  arquebus  close  to  my 
mouth,  '  Hold  your  hands,  villains  !  This  woman  is 
mother  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  and  I,  a  friend  whom 
she  intends  to  honor  with  a  high  office  under  the 
Count  of  Wiirtemberg.'  This  timely  speech  wrought 
a  change  in  our  affairs.  The  bandits  considered  that 
we  might  be  worthy  of  ransom  ;  and  they  sent  to  ask 
the  orders  of  their  chiefs,  who  were  feasting  together 
in  a  house  at  no  great  distance,  whose  master  they 
had  taken  for  ransom,  and  whose  stores  they  had 
broken  into  and  distributed  among  their  men.  The 
name  of  Jeanne  Dare  acted  like  a  charm ;  and  we 
were  immediately  treated  by  the  chiefs'  orders  with 
the  greatest  consideration.  Isabel's  money  was  re 
stored  ;  for  my  damaged  coat  I  was  given  a  new  one ; 
and  we  were  bidden  to  attend  the  chieftains  at  supper. 
This  honor  I  would  willingly  have  dispensed  with,  for 
I  never  cared  to  be  of  the  company  of  rogues  and 
villains,  and  Isabel  was  well  nigh  fainting  for  fear ; 


178  THE  SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

but  even  the  devil  is  not  as  black  as  he  is  painted, 
and  these  two  gentlemen,  it  proved,  were  very  dis 
tinguished  soldiers,  being  no  others,  indeed,  than  the 
famous  Etienne  de  Vignolles  and  Pothon  de  Saint- 
railles,  who  were  no  common  bandits,  as  they  assured 
us,  but  were  officers  of  the  king's  justice,  as  bailiffs 
of  Vermandois  and  Bourges.  They  had  met  on  the 
borders  of  Luxembourg,  meaning  to  join  themselves 
to  the  command  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans ;  but,  learn 
ing  of  her  intended  marriage,  they  did  not  continue 
their  journey,  La  Hire  declaring  himself  deeply  dis 
appointed  at  the  failure  of  their  plans.  They  had 
meant  to  win  credit  by  undertaking  the  siege  of 
Rouen,  or  some  other  great  enterprise  under  the 
leadership  of  the  Pucelle.  Meantime,  they  lived  off 
of  the  country,  which  they  considered  was  no  more 
than  their  just  reward  for  the  services  they  had  done 
it;  but  no  good  Frenchman,  I  was  told,  had  ever 
suffered  at  their  hands.  For  the  mother  of  the  Maid 
of  Orleans,  their  respect  was  so  unbounded,  that  they 
offered  us  an  escort  of  soldiers  for  the  rest  of  our 
journey;  and  to  make  our  return  secure,  they  gave 
me  this  slip  of  paper  marked  with  their  names  as 
passport.  No  one,  they  said,  would  dare  to  oppose  its 
authority.  It  has  carried  me  safely  through  the  coun 
try  as  they  promised  me  ;  but  it  has  neither  clad  my 
back  nor  filled  my  stomach.  No  one  has  taken  me 


A  MESSAGE. 


179 


for   an    £corcheur,  though  I  had   these  two  names  to 
show  to  my  credit." 

With    this,  Robin    produced    a    crumpled    piece   of 
parchment  inscribed  with  the  autographs : 


AND 


Des  Armoises  looked  at  these  signatures  with  in 
terest.  "You  had  a  fortunate  escape,"  he  said;  "but 
tell  me  how  you  met  the  Maid." 

"It  was  a  game  of  hide-and-seek,"  answered  Robin. 
"Isabel  fell  sick  from  the  drenching  and  the  fright 
she  had  had,  and  I  left  her  in  a  peasant's  house  on 
the  road  to  Arlon,  promising  to  return  with  her 
daughter,  or  to  bring  a  litter  to  carry  her  the  rest  of 
the  way;  but  my  horse  was  lame,  and  I  was  forced 
to  travel  slowly,  and  when  I  reached  the  duchess's 
castle  I  found  that  Jeanne  had  left  it  for  Cologne, 
and  that  my  acquaintance  with  her  secured  me 
neither  money  nor  credit.  So  back  I  posted  to  take 
counsel  with  Isabel ;  and  found  her  so  ill  with  a 


180  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

rheumatic  fever  that  she  could  not  move  in  the  bed. 
'The  devil  has  bound  me  hand  and  foot,'  she  said, 
weeping.  '  You  must  go  without  me  to  Cologne ; ' 
and  she  gave  me  all  the  money  she  had  left,  trust 
ing  that  when  Jeanne  knew  of  her  state  she  would 
send  her  a  purse  full. 

"As  I  was  not  sure  that  Isabel  would  live  to  re 
cover  from  so  violent  an  illness,  I  found  means  to  send 
word  of  her  state  by  a  passing  company  of  muleteers 
to  her  friends  in  Toul,  and  from  thence  to  Vaucou- 
leurs  ;  and  I  set  out  again  alone  with  the  courage  of 
a  knight-errant,  and  with  constant  ill-luck;  for  I  met 
with  many  delays  and  mishaps,  which  I  will  not  now 
take  time  to  relate." 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that,"  interposed  Robert. 

"  And  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  merciful  providence 
I  should  never  have  reached  Cologne  alive.  I  fell 
in,  however,  with  a  party  of  merchants  who  were 
travelling  that  way,  and  they  made  me  welcome  to 
their  company,  and  were  useful  to  me  in  interpreting 
the  strange  jargon  of  the  people,  and  making  me  ac 
quainted  with  their  ways.  When  I  reached  Cologne, 
I  found  that  Jeanne  was  off  again  to  the  summer 
residence  of  the  Counts  of  Wiirtemburg,  at  a  dis 
tance  from  the  city  ;  but  as  she  was  expected  to  re 
turn,  I  determined  to  wait  for  her,  and  took  lodgings 
with  a  worthy  apothecary,  whose  son  was  a  cripple 


A  MESSAGE.  181 

and  spent  his  time  in  carving  wooden  images  of  St. 
Ursula,  which  he  sold  to  pilgrims.  I  bought  one 
of  them,  and  kept  it  always  by  me ;  and  to  it  I  ascribe 
my  cure  from  a  singular  ailment  which  baffled  the 
skill  of  the  apothecary,  and  did  not  yield  to  any  one 
of  a  dozen  drugs  which  he  tried  on  me  in  succession." 

"  You  chatter  as  if  possessed  by  the  spirits  of  St. 
Ursula  and  her  eleven  thousand  virgins,"  exclaimed 
Des  Armoises.  "Be  good  enough  to  confine  yourself 
to  the  main  points  of  your  story.  When  did  you 
meet  Jeanne  ?  " 

"I  am  coming  to  that,  "replied  Robin.  "Luckily 
for  me,  the  apothecary's  wife  was  a  Frenchwoman, 
and  one  who  missed  no  news  of  the  day.  It  was 
through  her  that  I  learned  of  the  miracle  that  Jeanne 
was  to  do." 

"  A  miracle  ! "  exclaimed  Des  Armoises. 

"  Yes.  It  was  promised  when  Jeanne  came  to 
Cologne  that  she  would  cure  the  sister  of  the  count 
of  a  mortal  illness,  and  secure  to  him  the  succession 
to  a  disputed  inheritance ;  and  it  was  this  which  Count 
Ulric  had  ridden  to  Lorraine  to  beg  her  to  do,  not 
knowing  he  would  fall  in  love  and  ask  her  to  wife. 
Well,  it  seems  she  had  no  sooner  gone  to  Wiirtem- 
burg  than  the  count's  sister  died,  and  the  emperor 
adjudged  the  case  of  the  succession  against  the  count. 
This  made  no  difference  in  Count  Ulric's  love  for  her, 


182  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

and  the  wedding-day  was  set;  but  a  rumor  was  started 
by  the  enemies  of  France  that  Jeanne  was  an  im 
postor,  and  every  one  began  to  clamor  for  a  miracle 
to  prove  her  claims. 

"  For  a  time  this  went  unheeded ;  but  at  last  it  was 
determined  that  she  should  show  her  power  by  work 
ing  a  marvel  that  would  set  all  doubts  at  rest.  The 
place  chosen  was  a  public  square  in  the  city,  where 
a  platform  was  built  covered  with  cloth-of-gold,  on 
which  Jeanne  was  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
dignitaries  of  Cologne  and  its  district.  The  guards 
of  the  Count  of  Wiirtemburg  escorted  her  with  great 
honor  as  she  rode  in  armor  with  a  squire  and  a  priest 
by  her  side.  When  I  saw  her  and  her  companions, 
my  heart  gave  a  leap,  for  I  knew  her  at  once,  and 
my  old  friend,  Pierre  of  Toul,  who  was  promoted  to 
be  her  confessor;  and  I  made  sure  she  would  know 
me  as  well  when  she  had  the  opportunity.  Ambrose 
made  a  Latin  prayer  when  she  had  come  upon  the 
platform ;  and  then  before  the  eyes  of  thousands, 
Jeanne  did  a  marvel  that  I  would  never  have 
credited  if  told  me  by  another.  First  she  broke  a 
crystal  vase,  and  laid  the  fragments  upon  a  table ; 
then  she  took  a  silken  napkin,  and  tore  it  in  two. 
After  that,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  made  some 
motion  with  her  hands,  and  Presto !  there  were  the 
vase  and  napkin  whole  as  at  first. 


A  MESSAGE.  183 

"The  people  shouted  with  delight,  and  she  went 
back  in  triumph  to  the  castle,  where  there  was  a 
banquet  and  a  dance  in  her  honor;  and  Count  Ulric 
danced  with  her  a  dozen  times  it  was  said.  But  he 
who  is  high  must  look  for  a  fall.  The  very  next 
day  the  Inquisition  brought  against  her  the  charge  of 
heresy  and  witchcraft,  which  they  said  she  had  escaped 
at  Rouen  by  the  power  of  the  devil ;  and  it  would 
have  gone  hard  with  her  if  she  had  fallen  into  their 
clutches ;  but,  as  it  was,  the  count  had  warning  in 
time,  and  sent  Jeanne  off  by  night  under  a  strong 
guard  to  Aiion,  while  Count  Ulric  was  shut  up 
against  his  will  in  the  castle,  where  it  took  three 
men  to  hold  him  and  to  keep  him  from  doing  him 
self  an  injury,  so  great  was  his  despair  at  parting 
with  his  love.  The  old  count,  too,  loved  Jeanne  well, 
and  loaded  her  with  gifts ;  but  he  had  no  mind  to 
have  a  daughter-in-law  who  might  be  cited  at  any 
time  before  the  Holy  Office.  I  followed  back  again 
to  Arlon ;  and  there,  after  all  this  weary  time,  at  last 
I  met  with  Jeanne.  She  was  seated  at  table  with 
the  duchess,  when  I  managed  to  escape  the  notice 
of  the  guards  and  enter  the  dining-hall ;  where  I  fell 
on  my  knees  before  her.  As  ill-luck  would  have 
it,  I  chanced  to  overturn  a  trestle  that  held  the 
boards  of  the  table,  and  spilled  half  a  dozen  soups 
into  the  lap  of  the  duchess,  for  which  the  duke 


184  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

would  have  clapped  me  into  prison;  but  Jeanne  en 
treated  my  pardon,  saying  that  I  was  a  friend  of 
hers ;  and  afterwards  she  walked  with  me  in  the  garden 
as  gracious  as  you  please,  and  listened  to  my  story, 
and  inquired  for  her  mother,  and  sent  her  some 
money,  and  gave  me  a  gold  chain,  and  made  me 
promise  to  go  home  by  way  of  Thichiemont  and  ask 
the  Sire  Des  Armoises  if  he  had  found  the  token 
which  she  had  left  for  him  upon  the  marble  bench 
at  Thichiemont.  '  He  will  pay  you  a  hundred-fold 
for  this  message,'  she  said." 

"  This  is  an  amazing  story  !  "  exclaimed  Des  Ar 
moises.  "I  do  not  know  how  much  of  it  I  dare 
venture  to  credit.  Your  last  sentence,  I  doubt  not, 
is  apocryphal;  and  as  for  the  rest,  I  cannot  judge 
where  truth  ends  and  falsehood  begins." 

"  I  swear  by  all  the  saints  that  every  word  is  gos 
pel  truth,"  said  Robin.  "  How  could  I  serve  myself 
by  telling  you  a  lie?  Remember  that  you  promised 
me  a  crown  for  each  word  of  the  message,  which 
you  should  increase  tenfold,  considering  that  I  have 
risked  my  life  to  deliver  it." 

"  You  shall  have  all  you  ask,  if  you  have  told  the 
truth,"  replied  Robert.  "Wait  for  me  here  until  I 
return." 

He  hastened  from  the  room,  and  ran  rather  than 
walked  to  the  marble  bench  under  the  trees  of  the 


A   MESSAGE.  185 

tennis-court,  where  upon  the  seat  there  still  lay  the 
discolored  silver  medal  which  Jeanne  had  placed 
there.  Des  Armoises  took  it  in  his  hand,  and  scru 
tinized  its  design  and  inscription  with  eyes  upon 
which  a  new  light  dawned. 

On  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  at  earliest  dawn, 
Robin,  with  a  heavy  wallet  and  a  light  heart,  resumed 
his  road;  and  Des  Armoises,  turning  his  back  on 
Thichiemont,  made  his  way  towards  Arlon  at  the  full 
speed  of  his  fleet  Arabian,  that  had  never  known  his 
master  make  so  severe  a  test  of  his  strength  and 
courage  since  he  had  carried  aid  to  the  forlorn-hope 
on  the  occasion  of  an  ambushed  attack  by  the  Turks, 
when  many  a  brave  knight  bit  the  dust. 


186  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   ARCHIVES   OF    ORLEANS. 

(EUR-DE-LIS,  the  herald  of  Orleans, 
entered  Arlon  on  a  mission  to  the  Maid 
on  the  same  day  that  Des  Armoises 
rode  into  the  city;  and  the  young  man 
following  in  the  throng  that  surrounded 
the  famous  messenger  looked  with  interest  at  his 
splendid  attire,  at  the  tabard  of  crimson  silk  worked 
in  gold  with  the  arms  of  the  city,  and  the  porcupine, 
the  device  of  the  house  of  Orleans,  embroidered  on  his 
shoulders. 

Orleans  was  a  name  to  stir  the  heart ;  and  Robert  felt 
with  a  pang  of  apprehension,  that  Jeanne's  past,  ren 
dered  vivid  by  this  embodiment  of  its  inspiring  memo 
ries,  might  prove  at  this  juncture  his  most  formidable 
rival.  He  watched  the  gorgeous  embassy  enter  the 
castle,  preceded  by  a  flourish  of  trumpets  that  set  the 
echoes  ringing;  and  feeling  that  his  errand  was  hope 
lessly  retarded  by  the  herald's  presence,  he  whiled 
away  a  tedious  day  at  an  inn,  and  towards  evening  set 
out  on  foot  for  the  castle,  where  he  learned  that  a 


THE   ARCHIVES   OF   ORLEANS.  187 

grand  festival  was  in  progress.  This  was  made  evi 
dent  by  the  fireworks  that,  as  soon  as  night  came  on, 
flew  sputtering  above  the  tree-tops  to  the  delight  of  the 
crowd  assembled  to  view  them. 

Mingling  with  the  multitude,  Des  Armoises  entered 
the  castle  gardens,  which,  thus  illuminated,  appeared 
as  a  labyrinth  of  winding  paths  bordered  by  tall  box 
hedges,  and  interspersed  with  fish-ponds,  arbors,  pedes- 
talled  statues,  and  bosky  clumps  of  wildwood,  the 
whole  arrangement  bearing  a  designed  resemblance  to 
the  pleasure  grounds  of  an  Italian  villa. 

The  people  of  the  town  were  admitted  to  the  ter 
races  whence  the  fireworks  might  be  viewed,  but 
-guards  wearing  the  badge  of  the  house  of  Luxembourg 
were  placed  at  intervals  to  repel  their  intrusion  upon 
the  walks  immediately  about  the  castle.  These  were 
occupied  by  a  throng  of  masquers,  fantastically  arrayed 
as  goddesses,  troubadours,  shepherdesses,  and  Saracens, 
whose  gay  voices  mingled  with  the  sound  of  hautboys 
and  clarionets  concealed  among  the  trees. 

Des  Armoises  strolled  unchallenged  among  the  rev 
ellers,  avoiding  the  more  frequented  alleys,  until  he 
came  to  an  inviting  seat  beneath  an  arbor,  where  he 
placed  himself  to  watch  the  corruscating  shapes  of  fire 
that  blazed  for  a  moment  in  the  summer  sky,  like  dev 
astating  comets,  and  faded  leaving  no  trace  behind; 
until  the  end  of  the  display  was  reached  in  a  sheaf  of 


188  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUII-DE-L1S. 

arrows  which  darted  to  the  zenith  from  the  centre  of  a 
crown,  beneath  which  appeared  in  blazing  letters,  the 
name  Jeanne.  This  masterpiece  of  pyrotechnic  art 
was  greeted  by  universal  applause. 

"  How  do  you  enjoy  our  illumination,  messire  ? " 
asked  a  voice  in  his  ear ;  and  turning  hastily,  Des  Ar- 
moises  observed  that  the  other  end  of  his  bench  was 
occupied  by  a  shepherdess,  whose  crook  bore  a  bunch 
of  roses  tied  with  a  knot  of  ribbons  which  fluttered  also 
at  her  shoulders  and  elbows,  and  were  used  to  loop  the 
floating  draperies  of  her  dress.  "  And  why  are  you 
alone  here  in  the  shadow,  when  every  other  knight  is 
performing  his  devoirs  as  an  escort  of  ladies  ? "  she 
added.  "  Is  it  that  you  are  ill  or  in  love  ?  " 

"  The  latter  rather  than  the  former,"  responded  Des 
Armoises. 

"  I  had  guessed  it,"  she  replied.  "  Love  is  of  itself 
a  sort  of  malady,  from  which  many  recover,  and  none, 
as  far  as  I  know,  die.  Has  your  lady  proved  false  or 
cruel,  that  you  are  left  to  mope  alone  ?  " 

"  You  will  understand  my  condition  when  I  tell  you 
that  her  name  is  that  which  lately  shone  across  the 
heavens  like  Constantine's  cross,  a  miracle  of  light,"  he 
answered. 

"  Jeanne  du  Lis  !  "  exclaimed  the  lady.  "  Who  are 
you,  bold  knight  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  go  like  yourself,  incognito,"  he  replied. 


THE  ARCHIVES   OF   ORLEANS.  189 

"All  may  know  me  as  the  Sire  Robert  Des  Ar- 
moises." 

The  lady  removed  her  mask,  revealing  clear  blue 
eyes,  and  a  broad,  thoughtful  forehead,  from  which  her 
golden  hair  was  tightly  drawn  back,  and  formed  into 
plaited  loops  behind  the  ears ;  a  severe  style,  then  much 
in  vogue,  and  trying  to  a  face  not  in  the  first  bloom  of 
youth  ;  but  in  this  case  it  served  to  emphasize  the  del 
icate  regularity  of  her  features. 

"I  am  Elizabeth  de  Goerlitz,"  she  said. 

"  Duchess  of  Luxembourg,"  said  Robert,  making  a 
deep  reverence. 

"The  same,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "You  are 
thrice  welcome  to  Arlon,-  Sire  Des  Armoises,  and 
you  are  come  at  this  time  by  the  happiest  chance;  for 
no  more  than  an  hour  ago  I  would  have  given  my 
pearl  necklace  to  have  had  speech  with  you." 

"Is  it  possible?"  he  cried  in  surprise. 

"  I  will  explain  my  meaning,"  she  continued.  "An 
informal  council  was  held  this  evening  by  Jeanne's 
friends  most  devoted  to  her  service,  her  brother,  her 
confessor,  and  myself,  to  advise  with  her  as  to  the 
answer  she  should  give  to  the  petition  brought  by 
CcBur-de-lis  that  she  should  immediately  return  to 
Orleans.  Since  the  untoward  events  of  her  stay  in 
Cologne,  of  which  you  have  doubtless  heard,  she  has 
lost  her  buoyant  spirits,  and  is  oppressed  with  the 


190  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

fear  of  disaster'.  Nothing  seems  to  offer  her  such 
peace  and  security  as  the  seclusion  of  a  convent ; 
and  in  spite  of  all  advice  she  has  determined  to  enter 
the  religious  life." 

Robert  exclaimed  in  dismay. 

"When  first  she  was  in  Arlon,  she  told  me,"  con 
tinued  the  duchess,  "that  her  marriage  with  Count 
Ulric  was  to  be  one  of  policy  and  convenience,  dic 
tated  by  the  urgent  insistence  of  her  brothers.  She 
owned  that  her  heart  was  otherwise  engaged,  and  in 
answer  to  my  inquiries  she  revealed  your  name." 

Des  Armoises  caught  the  hand  of  the  duchess  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "You  give  me  new  life,"  he 
cried. 

"  You  will  now  comprehend  why  I  wished  for  your 
presence  to  aid  me  in  persuading  Jeanne  that  France 
and  the  world  cannot  consent  to  surrender  their  claim 
upon  her." 

"She  will  listen  to  me,"  he  cried  eagerly;  "only 
contrive  that  I  may  have  ten  words  alone  with  Jeanne, 
and  I  will  owe  you  a  lifelong  gratitude." 

The  duchess  rose  with  a  smile  as  she  drew  a 
golden  bracelet  from  her  arm  and  flung  it  upon  the 
seat  she.  had  quitted. 

"  I  have  dropped  my  bracelet,"  she  said ;  "  and 
Jeanne,  knowing  that  I  value  it  as  the  gift  of  the 
duke,  will  come  here  at  my  request  to  find  it." 


THE   ARCHIVES   OF   ORLEANS.  191 

Des  Armoises  left  alone  in  the  odorous  darkness  of 
the  garden  which  most  of  the  masquers  had  quitted 
for  the  dancing-hall,  listened  with  strained  ears  to 
each  passing  footstep,  to  the  plashing  of  the  foun 
tain  which  fell  from  a  Nereid's  shell  into  a  marble 
basin  at  the  end  of  the  box  alley,  and  to  the  far 
away  sound  of  the  music  borne  in  dying  chords  upon 
the  breeze.  Each  moment  brought  an  alternating 
hope  and  fear.  It  was  past  belief  that  fortune  and 
chance  should  so  conspire  to  bless  him;  yet  the 
thought  of  disappointment  now  was  not  to  be  en 
dured. 

At  last  the  footfall  for  which  he  waited  fell  upon 
his  ear,  a  light  hurrying  tread,  which  brought  the 
wearer  of  a  white  robe  into  view  among  the  trees, 
and  led  her  in  some  trepidation  to  the  spot  where 
he  was  seated. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  murmured ;  "  the  duchess  has 
lost  a  bracelet  which  she  thinks  you  may  have  noticed 
if  she  dropped  it  here." 

"Yes;  here  it  is,  to  be  had  at  your  own  price," 
he  answered ;  and  breaking  into  a  joyous  laugh,  he 
caught  her  hand,  and  drew  her  to  his  side.  "  Jeanne, 
you  are  mine,"  he  said.  "  Nevermore  shall  you 
escape  me." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  gave  a  stifled  scream, 
attempting  to  repulse  his  encircling  arm,  though 


192  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-  DE-LIS. 

conscious  that  resistance  was  in  vain,  since  her  heart, 
beating  with  tumultuous  delight,  cried  out  for  sur 
render. 

"  How  could  the  duchess  so  forget  her  friendship 
for  me  as  to  delude  me  so  unkindly  ?  "  she  exclaimed ; 
and  the  darkness  hid  the  smile  that  was  at  variance 
with  the  words.  "  What  right  have  I  given  you, 
messire,  to  address  me  thus  ? " 

"You  are  my  future  wife,"  said  Des  Armoises, 
"and  you  are  the  mistress  of  my  soul.  Do  not  deny 
the  love  you  once  confessed,  or  struggle  against  the 
fate  that  has  made  you  mine." 

She  resisted  still,  making  a  last  stand  for  conscience 
against  passion.  "I  am  unworthy  of  you,"  she  fal 
tered. 

"You  unworthy,  Jeanne!"  he  cried. 

"  You  do  not  know  all,"  she  said  drearily.  "  You 
never  can  know  all ;  but  I  must  make  such  confes 
sion  as  I  may  before  I  give  you  my  promise.  After 
that,  it  may  be  you  will  cast  me  off." 

"Is  there  anything  you  could  do  that  I  would  not 
forgive  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  heard  the  story  of  that  dread 
ful  time  in  Cologne,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "when  the 
clamor  of  the  people  for  a  miracle  suggested  to  the 
marshal  that  they  should  be  contented  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  one  —  a  juggling  trick  that  Frai^ois  had 


THE   ARCHIVES   OF   ORLEANS.  193 

taught  me.  He  calls  himself  a  wizard,  but  he  is  only 
a  clever  juggler  made  bold  by  lack  of  conscience. 
After  that  day  at  Thichiemont,  I  had  determined  that 
nothing  should  make  me  false  to  you.  Come  what 
might,  I  should  never  marry  another."  Robert  kissed 
the  hand  he  held.  "  But  when  I  found  that  I  must 
pose  before  the  world  as  one  inspired  by  a  heavenly 
power,  when  conscious  of  such  bitter  degradation,  I 
knew  I  could  not  look  you  in  the  eyes  ;  I  could  not 
do  you  such  a  wrong  "  —  here  her  voice  faltered  and 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Jeanne,  Jeanne,"  cried  Robert  in  distress,  "  I  do 
not  understand.  There  is  more  than  you  have  told 
me.  How  comes  it  that  you  could  not  defy  the  mar 
shal,  and  refuse  to  do  his  bidding?  Was  not  your 
love  for  me  stronger  than  your  fear  of  him?" 

"  Alas !  I  am  caught  in  a  net  that  fate  has  woven 
about  me,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  explain  my  fear  of 
the  marshal.  What  he  bids  me,  I  must  do.  I  have 
no  power  to  resist." 

Robert  by  an  effort  repressed  his  anxiety.  "  All 
that  will  be  changed  when  you  are  my  wife,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  "  My  heart  will  shield  you ;  my  sword 
will  defend  you.  You  will  forget  the  trials  which 
have  weakened  your  courage.  But  Orleans  shall  have 
no  claim  upon  you.  You  are  henceforth  to  bless  my 
home,  and  inspire  my  life.  Is  not  that  a  mission 


194  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

worthy  of  you,  Jeanne?  and  will  you  not  be  content 
in  it?" 

"  Do  not  call  me  Jeanne,"  she  said,  trembling  and 
distressed.  "  If  I  refuse  the  entreaties  of  Orleans,  I 
do  not  deserve  to  bear  that  name.  Call  me  Claude. 
It  suits  me  best." 

"  Jeanne  is  the  name  of  my  love,"  said  Robert. 
"But  your  hands  are  cold  and  trembling.  Are  you 
not  happy,  sweet  ?  " 

•  "  No ;  for  I  still  recall  that  moment  when  I  stood 
upon  a  platform  before  the  eyes  of  all  Cologne,  and 
the  people  applauded  the  marvel  that  I  worked,  and 
Count  Ulric  almost  knelt  in  reverence ;  and  the  next 
day  I  had  to  flee  to  escape  arrest  by  the  Inquisition. 
Can  you  love  an  impostor,  Robert?" 

She  asked  the  question  with  an  intensity  of  empha 
sis  that  gave  a  strange  shrillness  to  her  voice,  and 
she  hung  upon  the  answer  as  if  it  was  to  seal  her  fate. 

Des  Armoises  felt  a  sudden  pang;  but  the  sound 
of  his  name  pronounced  for  the  first  time  by  her  lips 
stirred  his  heart  with  tenderness. 

"  Some  day  we  will  determine,  as  a  question  of 
casuistry,  how  far  you  deserve  the  condemnation  of 
your  conscience,"  he  said.  "This  hour  holds  for  us 
too  rare  a  joy.  We  are  ungrateful  if  we  trouble  its 
perfection." 

Claude  sighed,  and  remained  silent  with  her  hand 


THE  ARCHIVES  OF  ORLEANS.         195 

in  his ;  and  as  he  talked  with  soothing  words  of  cheer 
and  endearment,  a  load  slipped  from  her  heart. 

"  He  loves  me  in  spite  of  everything,"  she  thought. 
"  He  would  love  me  as  well  if  he  knew  the  worst ; 
for  he  would  know  that  necessity  has  made  me  what 
lam;"  and  her  heart  swelled  with  love  and  grati 
tude. 

A  distant  blast  of  trumpets  announced  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  dance.  "  Let  us  go  in,"  she  said.  "  The 
moon  is  down.  It  is  late." 

They  rose  ;  and  Claude,  turning  towards  her  lover, 
flung  her  arms  with  an  impetuous  movement  about 
his  neck,  while  their  lips  met  for  the  first  time  in  a 
kiss. 

"  I  love  you,  and  I  will  be  true  to  you,"  she  said. 
"  I  give  you  this  kiss  as  a  seal  of  faith." 

In  the  archives  of  Orleans  the  following  disburse 
ments  are  recorded :  — 

"  On  the  9th  day  of  August,  1436  ;  Letters  carried  from  Jeanne 
la  Pucelle."  (A  payment  made  to  the  messenger.) 

"  To  Jean  du  Lis,  brother  of  Jeanne  la  Pucelle,  Tuesday, 
August  21st,  1436,  12  livres  tournois ;  because  he  came  to  the 
Chamber  and  asked  the  procureurs  to  give  him  money  to  return 
to  his  sister.  The  king  had  ordered  a  hundred  francs  to  be 
given  to  him ;  they  only  gave  him  twenty ;  he  had  spent  twelve 
and  had  only  eight  left,  which  was  little  to  return  with,  seeing 
that  he  was  his  fifth  (day)  on  horseback." 


196  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Later  on,  the  following  record  may  be  seen :  — 

"  To  Cceur-de-lis  the  28th  October,  1436,  for  a  journey  that  he 
made  for  the  city  of  Orleans  to  the  Maid  who  was  at  Arlon  in 
the  Duchy  of  Luxembourg,  and  to  carry  a  letter  which  he 
brought  from  Jehanne  la  Pucelle  to  the  King  at  Loches,  in  which 
journey  he  took  41  days,  that  is  to  say  34  days  in  journey  for 
the  Pucelle,  and  7  days  to  go  to  the  king.  (He  set  out  to  go  to 
the  Maid  Tuesday  last  day  of  July,  and  he  returned  the  2nd 
day  of  September  following.)" 

On  the  next  page  we  read :  — 

"  To  Jaquet  Leprestre,  the  2nd  day  of  Sept.  for  bread,  wine, 
pears  and  nuts  dispensed  in  the  Chamber  of  the  said  city  on 
the  coming  of  the  said  Coeur-de-lis  who  brought  the  said  letters 
from  Jehanne  la  Pucelle,  and  for  giving  drink  to  the  said  Coeur- 
de-lis  who  declared  he  was  very  thirsty,  for  this  2  s.  4  d.  p." 

The  historic  thirst  of  the  messenger,  and  the  festivi 
ties  with  which  his  return  was  welcomed,  are  thus 
recorded;  but  the  clerk  of  the  exchequer  could  not 
incorporate  in  his  account-books  the  amazing  intelli 
gence  which  the  letters  contained,  the  news  of  the 
approaching  marriage  of  Jeanne  la  Pucelle  with  the 
Sire  Des  Armoises,  an  event  which  would  render  it 
impossible  for  her  to  accept  the  renewed  invitations 
of  her  good  friends  of  Orleans,  whose  welfare  was 
ever  near  her  heart,  and  whose  faces  she  would  hope 
to  see  when  Providence  should  permit.  The  letter 


THE   ARCHIVES    OF   ORLEANS.  197 

to  the  king  was  of  similar  purport;  and  both  were 
signed  with  the  well-known  autograph  which  had 
been  the  mark  of  the  Maid :  — 


A  stupefaction  fell  upon  the  spirits  of  the  people 
when  they  learned  these  tidings ;  an  incredulous  dis 
may  such  as  they  had  felt  on  hearing  of  the  disaster 
at  Compi£gne.  Some  denied  it,  and  blamed  the 
Burgundians  for  starting  a  lying  rumor  to  the  dis 
credit  of  the  heroine  of  Orleans.  It  could  not  be 
that  Jeanne  was  free  to  choose  ;  it  must  be  by  the 
influence  of  the  enemies  of  France  that  she  was  led 
to  desert  its  cause  and  renounce  her  mission.  There 
were  murmurs  of  treachery  and  betrayal ;  and  it  was 
noted  that  to  some  of  those  high  in  the  king's  favor 
the  event  brought  neither  surprise  nor  dissatisfac 
tion.  Charles  himself  appeared  well  content  that  she 
to  whom  he  owed  his  kingdom  should  win  no  more 
battles  for  his  cause.  He  returned  no  answer  to  the 
letters  sent  from  Arlon,  though  he  received  Jean  du 
Lis  with  a  vaguely  gracious  smile,  and  ordered  that 
he  should  receive  a  hundred  francs  from  the  royal 


198  THE   SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

purse,    a   gift  five   times   better   in    the  promise   than 
the  performance. 

The  dean  of  St.  Thibaud,  to  whom  we  owe  the 
Chronicle  of  Metz,  thus  concludes  the  account  of 
the  reappearance  of  Jeanne  the  Pucelle,  "  who  called 
herself  Claude :"- 

"  And  then  she  came  to  Arelon,  and  there  was  made  the 
marriage  of  messire  Robert  des  Hermoises,  knight,  and  the  said 
Jehanne  the  Pucelle ;  and  then  afterwards  came  the  said  Siour 
des  Hermoises  with  his  wife  the  Pucelle  to  live  in  Metz,  in  the 
house  of  the  said  Sire  Robert  which  was  before  Saincte  Segoleine, 
and  there  they  stayed  whilst  it  pleased  them." 


LAMIA.  199 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LAMIA. 

VE  METZ  had  become  more  than  ever  the 
victim  of  a  fixed  idea  which  haunted 
him  waking  or  sleeping,  casting  a 
shadow  upon  his  life,  and  tinging  all 
his  thoughts  with  bitterness.  One  au 
tumn  evening  he  entered  the  room 
where  his  sister  sat  singing  at  her  needlework,  and 
flinging  a  book  upon  the  table  he  drew  the  candles 
near  and  invited  her  inspection  of  it.  It  was  a 
beautifully  illuminated  folio  containing  the  story  of 
Menippus  Lycius  of  Corinth,  who  had  been  ensnared 
by  the  love  of  a  Lamia,  a  serpent  sorceress,  and 
who  died  of  despair  when  Apollonius  the  philosopher 
effected  his  disenchantment. 

Eudeline  had  been  carefully  educated;  and  it  was 
not  difficult  for  her  to  read  the  French  text,  and 
thereby  very  readily  to  understand  the  Latin  context 
which  filled  each  alternate  page.  She  was  interested 
in  the  story,  which  was  new  to  her,  and  delighted 
with  the  illumination,  which  was  in  the  style  of  the 


200  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

masters  of  the  art;  and  she  was  prepared  to  thank 
her  brother  heartily  for  the  gift,  when  he  discon 
certed  her  expectations  by  remarking,  "I  intend  this 
book  as  a  warning  to  my  unfortunate  friend,  Robert 
Des  Armoises,  who  still  lives  blinded  by  the  fasci 
nations  of  the  Lamia  who  has  seduced  him.  It  may 
serve  to  open  his  eyes." 

Eudeline  blushed,  and  hesitated  for  a  reply;  for 
though  her  fancy  was  free  from  its  early  prepos 
session,  she  feared  her  brother's  probable  misinter 
pretation  of  the  friendly  interest  she  still  took  in 
all  that  concerned  Des  Armoises.  To  conform  with 
the  usual  practice  of  romancers,  Eudeline  should  be 
credited  with  an  undying  devotion  to  her  earliest 
affection ;  since  it  is  an  established  theory  that  the 
true  woman  can  love  but  once ;  that  loving  once  she 
must  love  ever  with  an  irrational  and  spaniel-like 
fidelity.  The  patient  Griseldas  of  life  support  this 
theory;  but  the  maiden's  heart  bestows  its  homage 
obeying  a  law  as  instinctive  as  that  which  draws 
the  flower  to  the  sunshine  and  the  bee  to  the  flower. 
Nature  too  often  is  party  to  a  conspiracy  whereby 
this  impulse  tends  to  results  which  may  be  more 
fitly  compared  to  the  encounter  of  the  fly  with  the 
cobweb,  or  the  dancing  gnat  with  the  sundew's  trap. 

Eudeline  had  escaped  heart-whole ;  but  she  felt  an 
active  good-will  for  Des  Armoises  which  urged  her 


LAMIA.  201 

to  interpose  herself  between  him  and  her  brother's 
threat. 

"What  good  can  you  do  by  opening  his  eyes, 
brother,  if  thereby  you  end  all  his  joy  ? "  she  asked. 

Jean  gave  his  sister  a  look  which  deprecated  the 
weakness  that  could  plead  for  the  joy  of  a  delu 
sion  in  a  world  of  stern  realities ;  and  he  began  to 
wrap  the  slim  leather-covered  volume  in  tissue  paper, 
tying  it  carefully  with  a  ribbon,  as  he  said,  "  I  mean 
this  as  a  present  to  the  bride.  Des  Armoises  entertains 
his  friends  to-night  as  Lycius  did  those  of  Corinth ; 
and  I  perhaps  can  play  the  part  of  Apollonius,  and 
expose  the  impostor  in  the  midst  of  her  success." 

"I  can  scarce  believe  her  to  be  an  impostor," 
answered  Eudeline,  "  she  has  so  fair  a  face ;  and 
as  for  sorcery,  I  saw  her  in  the  church,  where  she 
dipped  her  fingers  in  holy  water  and  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross." 

"  She  appeared  to  you  to  do  so,"  replied  De  Metz ; 
"  she  casts  a  glamour  on  the  senses.  With  Des 
Armoises  it  is  as  if  a  circle  were  traced  about  his 
path,  and  within  it  all  appears  by  the  light  of  en 
chantment,  and  he  can  see  nothing  as  it  is,  and 
judge  nothing  reasonably ;  but  he  sees  and  reasons 
as  she  wills  who  has  seduced  him." 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing  if  that  be  true,"  said  Eude 
line  ;  "  I  wish  you  would  not  meddle  with  it,  brother." 


202  THE    SHIELD   OP   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"I  must  do  my  duty,"  answered  Jean  with  the 
exultant  tone  of  a  self-devoted  martyr  to  a  cause 
worthy  of  the  last  sacrifice. 

Eudeline  when  left  alone  resumed  her  needlework, 
but  not  her  song.  With  laborious  care  she  drew  the 
crimson  silk  back  and  forth  to  outline  a  gaping 
wound  in  the  side  of  the  hero  of  Roncesvalles,  but 
it  was  not  the  thought  of  Roland's  fate  that  clouded 
her  brow. 

With  the  closing  in  of  the  autumn  night  a  heavy 
fog  had  settled  over  the  city,  obliterating  the  dis 
tance,  and  distorting  the  outlines  of  familiar  shapes. 
An  occasional  lantern,  hung  beside  a  doorway,  served 
to  light  a  limited  space,  beyond  which  the  darkness 
was  deeper  in  contrast.  Few  passengers  were  abroad; 
and  De  Metz,  as  he  hurried  on  his  way,  noticed  in 
spite  of  his  abstraction  the  forms  and  faces  of  two 
men,  whom  he  overtook  and  passed  in  the  lighted 
space  before  the  porch  of  Sainte  Seglenne.  They 
followed  him  across  the  narrow  street,  and  before 
the  porter  could  answer  his  summons  for  admittance 
at  the  opposite  house,  they  were  close  behind  him  ; 
and  the  light  of  a  blazing  torch  of  pitch  and  resin, 
which  was  set  in  a  stone  receptacle  behind  the  grilled 
door  of  the  small  inner  courtyard,  fell  full  upon  their 
faces,  revealing  Frangois,  the  priest,  and  David,  the 
minstrel,  whose  visit  to  Domre'my,  De  Metz  dis- 


LAMIA.  203 

tinctly  remembered.  The  minstrel,  as  usual,  adver 
tised  his  calling  by  the  guitar  which  he  wore  slung 
over  his  shoulder ;  but  the  singular  priest,  defying 
custom  and  precedent,  had  discarded  his  gown  and 
cowl  for  the  rich  garments  and  plumed  hat  of  a 
man  of  fashion.  De  Metz  had  first  seen  him  in  the 
costume  of  a  halberdier;  but  the  strongly  marked 
features,  swarthy  skin,  and  glittering,  deep-set  eyes, 
had  impressed  themselves  upon  his  memory;  and  the 
foreign  accent  with  which  he  spoke  helped  to  com 
plete  the  identification. 

"  Well  met,  gentlemen,"  said  De  Metz,  obeying  a 
sudden  impulse  of  curiosity;  "how  fares  your  master, 
the  noble  Marshal  de  Retz,  since  last  we  met  in 
Domre'my  ?  " 

"What  impertinent  chatterer  have  we  here  who 
claims  acquaintance  on  the  chance  of  year-long  re 
membrance  ?  "  exclaimed  Francois  with  a  scrutinizing 
glance. 

"I  am  Jean  de  Novelonpont,"  was  the  reply.  "The 
marshal  knows  me  well." 

"Then  I  will  bear  him  your  greetings,"  responded 
Frangois  flippantly.  "He  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  your 
estate.  As  for  himself,  he  is  well  and  prosperous. 
The  king  has  lately  made  him  a  count." 

"  Are  you  not  also  called  Jean  de  Metz  ? "  in 
quired  David. 


204  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"Ah,  by  that  title  I  remember  you,"  said  Fran- 
9013.  "  You  are  an  early  friend  of  the  Pucelle.  Let 
us  not  detain  you.  No  doubt  the  banquet  waits  for 
your  tardy  arrival." 

"I  am  no  friend  of  Jeanne  Des  Armoises,"  an 
swered  De  Metz;  then  fearing  that  he  had  betrayed 
too  much,  he  entered  at  the  porter's  invitation,  and 
ascended  the  stairs  in  advance  of  his  companions, 
who  lingered  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  will  accept  your  advice,  David,"  said  Fran9ois, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  You  can  best  do  our  errand  alone ; 
since  Jeanne  counts  you  a  friend,  while  she  hates  me 
as  she  hates  the  devil.  Contrive  to  give  her  the 
letter  at  once,  assure  her  of  its  pressing  importance, 
and  bring  me  her  answer  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment.  I  will  wait  for  you  in  the  church  yonder. 
My  devotions  are  long  in  arrears." 

Des  Armoises  and  his  bride  sat  side  by  side  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  which  was  filled  with  a  merry 
company  of  guests  assembled  to  do  them  honor. 
Claude's  face  was  glorified  by  the  light  of  an  inward 
joy,  and  Des  Armoises  wore  the  beatific  expres 
sion  of  the  happy  bridegroom,  for  whom  the  universe 
exists  only  as  affording  place  and  occasion  for  the 
perfections  of  his  beloved. 

The  entrance  of  the  two  late  comers  occasioned 
a  stir  among  the  guests.  De  Metz  was  greeted  by 


LAMIA.  205 

those  who  knew  him;  and  Robert,  with  pleased  con 
fusion,  welcomed  his  friend,  and  presented  him  to 
his  wife,  who  had  only  a  wandering  attention  to  be 
stow  upon  him,  since  the  minstrel  engrossed  her  eyes 
and  thoughts.  "  David,  dear  David ! "  she  cried,  ris 
ing  to  give  him  both  her  hands,  while  a  burst  of 
applause  from  the  ladies  greeted  the  sight  of  his 
be-ribboned  guitar. 

"  Now  we  shall  have  some  chansons  and  rondels," 
said  the  Lady  of  Villette.  "  There  is  nothing  I  love 
so  well.  The  horns  that  have  blown  so  sweetly  in 
the  farther  room  while  we  have  been  eating  and 
drinking,  have  made  us  feast  like  princes ;  but  noth 
ing  so  carries  me  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight, 
as  a  love-song  sung  to  a  guitar  in  my  ear." 

"  No  one  can  sing  so  well  as  David,"  said  Claude, 
smiling  at  the  minstrel,  who,  after  kissing  her  hands 
respectfully,  had  taken  his  place  on  a  cushion  at  her  side. 

"It  is  a  friendly  thing  in  you  to  come  unasked, 
De  Metz,"  said  Des  Armoises  in  a  low  voice.  "Only 
my  doubt  of  your  willingness  to  accept  left  you  un 
bidden." 

"  I  have  brought  my  present  to  the  bride,"  an 
swered  De  Metz,  laying  the  volume  open  upon  the 
table  as  he  spoke.  "  This  book  contains  the  story 
of  the  Lamia,  the  serpent  sorceress,  who  seduced 
young  Lycius  of  Corinth  to  his  ruin." 


206  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Des  Armoises  regarded  the  speaker  keenly  as  he 
replied ;  "  For  all  that  is  friendly  in  your  intention, 
I  thank  you.  Take  a  seat  here,  and  do  us  the  honor 
to  eat  and  drink  with  us." 

The  book  at  which  Claude  had  hardly  cast  a  glance 
was  being  handed  about  among  the  guests,  who  ex 
pressed  their  admiration  of  the  valuable  gift,  uncon 
scious  that  it  hid  a  sinister  intention.  The  Lady 
Des  Armoises  was  absorbed  in  a  murmured  conver 
sation  with  the  minstrel,  to  whom  she  inclined  her 
lovely  head  in  the  effort  to  catch  his  whispered 
sentences,  rendered  inaudible  to  any  other  by  the 
fragments  of  brilliant  melodies  which  his  fingers  drew 
forth  in  quick  succession  from  his  instrument.  De 
Metz  was  not  disconcerted  by  the  bride's  averted 
attention,  or  her  husband's  alert  resentment.  "It 
would  add  to  your  enjoyment  if  this  pretty  story 
could  be  read  aloud,"  he  said,  looking  about  him.  "It 
is  a  tale  of  enchantment  which  is  as  true  as  his 
tory  itself." 

"  Oh,  let  us  hear  it !  "  cried  the  Lady  of  Villette. 
"  There  is  something  charming  in  the  recital  of  marrow- 
chilling  wonders.  But  who  can  read  it?  There  is 
not  a  priest  or  a  clerk  among  us.  We  are  all  worldly 
and  ignorant  folk,  who  think  we  do  well  to  sign 
our  names." 

"  You    forget    that    our    host   is    as    learned    as    a 


LAMIA.  207 

priest,"    said  Villette.      "He   will  read  it  to   us,  no 
doubt." 

Des  Armoises,  being  appealed  to  by  his  guests,  found 
it  impossible  to  refuse  the  request,  though  he  was 
uneasily  distrustful  of  De  Metz's  intention,  and  un 
willing  to  lend  himself  to  a  scheme  of  his  devising. 
Knowing  his  friend's  persistent  delusion,  he  guessed 
the  significance  which  he  meant  should  attach  to  the 
story ;  but  Robert  reflected  that  to  resent  so  monstrous 
an  insinuation  was  to  give  it  greater  credit  than  it 
deserved ;  and  since  he  alone  could  suspect  it,  no 
harm  could  be  done  by  ignoring  it.  With  affected 
unconcern,  therefore,  he  took  up  the  manuscript,  and 
read  the  story  from  beginning  to  end;  during  which, 
De  Metz,  in  imitation  of  the  Pythagorean  philos 
opher,  kept  his  unfriendly  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the 
bride,  smiling  to  note  that  she  was  listening  with  an 
alarmed  attention,  and  that  she  paled  and  trembled 
beneath  his  look.  The  minstrel's  low  music  accom 
panied  the  reading,  while,  unobserved  himself,  he 
regarded  De  Metz  with  the  alertness  of  a  panther 
that  crouches  for  a  spring.  Amid  the  murmur  of 
applause  that  followed  the  conclusion  of  the  story, 
De  Metz  arose  with  an  air  of  prophetic  denunciation, 
while  he  raised  a  warning  hand ;  but  before  the  words 
that  trembled  on  his  lips  had  time  to  form  themselves 
in  sound,  a  clanging  chord  sounded  in  his  ear. 


208  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUH-DE-LIS. 

"  Listen  now  to  the  interpretation  of  the  history 
which  you  have  heard,"  cried  David,  springing  to 
his  feet,  and  challenging  the  attention  of  the  com 
pany,  while  he  won  their  good-will  by  a  merry  smile. 
"  The  truth  of  it  is  that  of  each  man's  experience. 
Time  is  the  disenchanting  sage  before  whose  gaze 
beauty  fades  and  love  grows  cold.  He  steals  the 
roses  from  the  lips  and  cheeks,  and  plants  there  the 
ashen  hues  of  age.  He  dims  the  eyes,  furrows  the 
brow,  and  robs  joy  of  its  illusions  one  by  one.  What 
can  be  done  to  resist  this  fell  destroyer?  Defy  his 
power ;  enjoy  your  youth  while  you  may ;  quaff  the 
cup  of  delight  to  the  dregs ;  drink,  sing,  and  make 
merry,  while  the  eyes  of  love  are  upon  you ;  to  which 
nothing  is  so  potent  an  aid  as  the  power  of  melody, 
no  one  so  much  your  friend  as  the  minstrel  who 
helps  you  to  forget  the  morrow.  Listen  to  my  song." 

In  a  mellow  voice  he  began  a  light  Proven  gal 
ditty  in  praise  of  ladies'  smiles.  In  the  midst  of 
the  laughter  and  merriment  which  sounded  as  an 
echo  to  the  music,  De  Metz  remained  in  disconcerted 
silence,  conscious  that  he  had  lost  the  fitting  oppor 
tunity  without  which  his  purpose  would  fail  of  success. 
At  this  moment  the  band  of  musicians  placed  in  an 
adjoining  room  began  to  play  one  of  the  mad  Lorraine 
waltzes,  and  the  ladies  rising  from  the  table  entered 
upon  the  dance  with  the  abandon  of  peasants  who 


LAMIA.  209 

trace  the  whirling  mazes  on  their  village  green.  Des 
Armoises,  taking  De  Metz  by  the  arm,  drew  him  to 
a  distance,  while  he  said  in  low,  emphatic  tones,  — 

"  For  your  unfriendly  meaning  in  your  gift  and  pres 
ence  here,  I  shall,  when  occasion  offers,  demand  satis 
faction.  I  have  borne  much  from  you  for  the  sake  of 
our  former  friendship ;  but  remember  that  he  who  at 
tacks  the  credit  of  my  wife  by  so  much  as  a  thought, 
if  I  have  knowledge  of  it,  must  answer  to  me  sword 
to  sword  for  his  base  presumption." 

"As  you  please,"  said  De  Metz  composedly.  "My 
quarrel  is  not  with  you,  but  with  that  false  Lamia  who 
has  ensnared  you." 

Des  Armoises  pointed  imperiously  to  the  door.  "  Go, 
before  I  forget  my  duty  as  a  host,"  he  said.  "  If  I  did 
not  pity  you  as  a  madman,  I  should  be  less  charitable 
to  your  insolent  ravings." 

David  and  Claude  meantime  were  continuing  the 
subject  of  their  whispered  conversation,  as  they  stood 
in  a  curtained  alcove,  screened  from  the  observation  of 
the  merry  dancers. 

"  If  I  do  not  take  Francois  your  promise  to  pay  the 
money  this  letter  demands,  he  threatens  to  betray  your 
secret;  that  is  true,"  said  David.  "But  consider  that 
in  this  he  means  to  work  upon  your  fears.  Suppose 
you  should  defy  him,  tear  up  the  letter,  and  flatly  re 
fuse  him,  what  would  be  the  result?  To  fulfil  his 


210  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

threat  would  mean  above  all  else  ruin  to  the  marshal, 
to  whose  service  he  is  devoted  body  and  soul.  I  hold 
it  for  certain,  therefore,  that  if  you  resist,  he  will  be 
powerless.  Moreover,  by  an  appeal  to  the  marshal  you 
will  discover  that  he  has  no  knowledge  of  this  letter 
written  in  his  name ;  and  his  vengeance  will  fall  upon 
Francois  for  presuming  to  interfere  with  his  plans, 
which  include  no  condition  so  absolute  as  that  of  main 
taining  your  credit.  The  advantage  of  the  position  is 
with  you.  Courage  and  resolution  are  all  you  need  to 
make  yourself  secure  of  it." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  goodness,  David,  from  the 
heart,"  said  Claude.  "But,  alas,  I  have  no  courage  to 
resist.  FranQois  is  in  league  with  the  devil.  He  will 
find  means  to  fulfil  his  threat  without  endangering  the 
marshal.  Trust  him  for  that.  Oh,  David,  he  will  de 
stroy  me !  Save  me  from  him.  You  are  my  only 
hope." 

The  minstrel  stood  in  deep  reflection.  "  There  is 
only  one  way,"  he  murmured,  looking  up  with  shining 
eyes. 

"Are  you  not  inclined  to  be  jealous  of  that  gray- 
haired  troubadour,  Sire  Des  Armoises  ? "  the  Lady  of 
Villette  asked  her  host.  "  Since  his  coming,  your  wife 
has  had  thoughts  for  no  one  else.  These  musicians  are 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing;  they  can  steal  a  woman's 
heart  with  a  song ;  and  he  has  eyes  that  would  en- 


LAMIA.  211 

danger  the  discretion  of  Minerva,  if  he  were  as  young 
as  they  speak  him." 

Des  Armoises  had  tolerance  for  the  folly  of  woman's 
chatter;  but  the  thought  of  De  Metz's  active  malevo 
lence  clouded  his  spirits,  and  made  it  difficult  for  him 
to  appear  at  ease.  With  the  departure  of  the  minstrel, 
Claude's  gayety  had  given  place  to  a  reserved  preoccu 
pation,  which  insensibly  communicated  its  influence  to 
the  mood  of  the  assembly.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
horns  brayed  with  shrill  persistence :  the  dancers  soon 
grew  weary ;  and  at  an  early  hour  the  guests  dispersed, 
guided  by  servants  with  lanterns  and  torches  through 
the  dark  and  tortuous  streets.  Des  Armoises  stood  to 
light  the  last  departure  over  the  worn  stone  steps, 
which  the  feet  of  his  ancestors  had  marked  with  the 
comings  and  goings  of  a  hundred  years,  when  a  rising 
noise  of  voices  and  footsteps  attracted  his  attention  to 
a  crowd  which  had  suddenly  gathered  under  the  outer 
walls  of  Sainte  Seglenne,  where  a  narrow  alley  formed 
a  deep  channel  of  shade  between  the  eastern  side  of  the 
church  and  the  projecting  irregular  fronts  of  the  oppo 
site  houses. 

"  A  murder  has  been  done  in  the  street,"  said  a  pas 
ser-by ;  and  at  the  same  moment  Robert  felt  his  wife's 
hand  upon  his  arm.  "  A  murder,  good  God !  "  she  ex 
claimed  ;  "  and  is  the  murderer  known  ?  " 

Receiving  no  reply,  she  drew  her  mantle  over  her 


212  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

head,  and  hastened  across  the  street  amid  the  crowd 
that  had  quickly  gathered,  urged  by  that  impelling 
desire  for  sensation  which  is  like  the  scent  of  the 
quarry  to  the  pack  in  chase.  Robert,  as  in  duty 
bound,  followed  close  at  her  side,  his  strong  arm  and 
broad  shoulders  aiding  her  to  reach  the  foremost 
rank  of  spectators,  who  stood  about  a  torch-lit  space 
where  the  injured  man  was  stretched  unconscious 
upon  the  ground.  A  surgeon  who  knelt  beside  him 
with  his  fingers  at  the  wrist  had  just  opened  his  lips 
to  pronounce  authoritative  sentence.  "  He  lives.  I 
can  feel  the  pulse,"  he  said.  "  With  care,  there  is 
one  chance  in  a  hundred  that  he  may  recover." 

"In  which  case,"  said  a  magistrate,  who  had  been 
summoned  by  news  of  the  crime  from  a  snug  seat 
in  a  neighboring  wine-shop,  "there  is  a  chance  that 
the  truth  of  the  matter  may  be  discovered,  as  it 
cannot  be  by  the  testimony  of  one  witness  who  may 
be  interested  to  conceal  rather  than  to  reveal  it." 

His  pompous  utterance  was  cut  short  by  a  shriek 
of  dismay.  The  Lady  Des  Armoises  had  flung  her 
self  upon  her  knees  beside  the  prostrate  figure. 
"  David,  David,"  she  cried,  to  ears  that  were  deaf 
to  her  voice. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  the  minstrel  who  but  lately  left 
my  house,"  exclaimed  Des  Armoises.  "  How  did  it 
chance  ?  Who  was  his  assailant  ?  " 


LAMIA.  213 

"  This  fellow  here  tells  a  strange  story,  to  conceal, 
perhaps,  his  own  share  in  the  matter,"  answered  the 
justice,  frowning  with  judicial  severity  upon  a  man 
who  stood  in  the  background,  in  the  close  neighbor 
hood  of  an  armed  soldier,  who  seemed  to  regard  him 
more  as  a  prisoner  than  as  a  witness.  "  He  acknowl 
edges  that  he  was  also  in  your  house,  which  he  left 
in  advance  of  the  minstrel,  and  that  he  stood  in  the 
church  porch  until,  the  latter  appeared,  for  no  reason 
that  he  can  give." 

"Jean  de  Novelonpont,"  cried  Robert,  in  surprised 
recognition. 

"It  happened  as  I  have  told  you,"  said  De  Metz 
hurriedly.  "  I  met  the  two  men  in  the  street,  and 
recognized  them  as  servants  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz. 
One  entered  the  house,  and  the  other  waited  with 
out;  and  having  some  curiosity  as  to  their  errand,  I 
stood  to  watch  their  meeting.  The  minstrel  came 
singing  from  the  doorway;  and  they  moved  across 
the  street,  and  passed  me  in  amicable  conversation, 
though  they  spoke  too  softly  to  be  overheard.  When 
they  entered  upon  this  alley  the  minstrel  fell  back 
a  step  or  two,  as  if  to  adjust  the  ribbon  of  his  guitar, 
which  he  removed  from  about  his  throat.  The  next 
instant  he  sprang  forward  and  stabbed  ,the  Italian  in 
the  back  with  as  neat  a  stroke  as  ever  I  saw  de 
livered,  and  with  power  enough  in  the  blow  to  have 


214  THE   SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

* 

sent  any  man  that  was  mortal  into  eternity;  but,  by 
some  strange  chance,  the  Italian  escaped  unhurt,  and 
turned  with  a  cry  of  rage  upon  the  minstrel,  who 
lost  his  footing,  and  fell  with  the  other's  hands  upon 
his  throat,  choking  the  life  out.  His  grip  was  like 
that  of  a  vise,  and  did  not  relax  when  I  was  close 
upon  him,  and  dragging  him  by  the  shoulder,  as  one 
might  try  to  pull  a  deerhound  from  his  prey.  It 
was  only  when  life  seemed  extinct  in  his  victim 
that  he  rose  and  closed  upon  me,  with  such  sudden 
fury  of  attack  that  I  lost  ground,  gave  way,  and 
suffered  him  to  escape  before  the  coming  of  the 
guard  whom  my  cries  had  summoned." 

"  You  may  believe  this  story,"  said  the  Lady  Des 
Armoises,  lifting  a  stricken  face,  while  with  a  caress 
ing  touch  she  chafed  the  limp  hand  she  held ;  "  this 
Francois  is  a  fiend  of  malice,  and  has  sold  himself 
to  the  devil,  through  whose  power,  no  doubt,  he  es 
caped  unhurt.  I  know  him  well,  and  could  detect 
him  in  any  of  his  various  disguises,  priest  or  wizard, 
soldier  or  clerk.  You  must  bring  him  to  judgment 
for  this  crime,  if  there  is  justice  in  the  city  of 
Metz." 

"You  forget,  noble  Jeanne,"  said  the  magistrate 
respectfully,  "  that,  according  to  this  story,  if  we  are 
to  credit  it,  the  Italian  acted  only  in  self-defense  ; 
and  that  the  real  criminal  lies  here,  soon  to  be  past 


LAMIA.  215 

earthly  justice,  but  suffering  only  the  just  penalty 
of  his  deeds." 

"  David  a  criminal ! "  exclaimed  Claude  indignantly. 
"  A  kinder  heart  never  beat ;  "  then  she  cast  an  ap 
pealing  glance  at  her  husband,  and  added,  "our 
house  is  open  to  him;  is  it  not,  Robert?  There  is 
a  chance,  they  say,  of  his  recovery." 

"I  have  the  first  claim  to  show  the  charity  of  the 
good  Samaritan,"  interposed  De  Metz.  "  I  have  already 
made  the  offer  to  receive  him,  feeling  it  upon  my  con 
science  that  my  rescue  availed  so  little.  My  sister  is 
a  gentle  nurse,  and  I  have  an  aged  aunt  who  is  won 
derfully  skilled  in  simples  and  unguents.  Let  him 
be  carried  to  my  house  at  once.  It  is  within  easy 
distance." 

"  It  may  be  well  to  accept  this  offer,"  said  Des 
Armoises  to  the  magistrate ;  "  I  can  answer  for  the 
care  he  will  receive  with  my  friends." 

"  I  owe  him  more  than  I  can  pay,"  said  Claude.  "  I 
cannot  give  him  up." 

"My  house  is  always  open  to  you,  madam,"  said 
De  Metz.  "  My  sister  already  loves  you,  and  will  feel 
her  task  lightened  if  you  will  condescend  to  share  it 
with  her." 

Claude  fixed  a  thoughtful  gaze  upon  him.  "  Your 
sister  has  a  face  like  an  angel,"  she  said.  "  I  will  trust 
her  as  I  would  not  another.  But  the  task,  I  fear,  will 


216  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

not  be  a  long  one ; "  and  she  turned  aside  to  hide  her 
tears. 

The  interest  which  the  famous  Pucelle  manifested 
in  this  affray  and  its  victim  lifted  it  out  of  the  category 
of  ordinary  street  brawls  into  an  importance  which  made 
the  magistrate  hesitate  to  commit  himself  too  hastily  to 
a  course  which  might  have  far-reaching  consequences. 
The  name  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz  was  sufficient  to  im 
pose  deliberation  upon  any  action  which  was  likely  to 
concern  his  interests  ;  and  time,  the  justice  reflected, 
was  likely  to  prove  a  valuable  coadjutor  in  this  case,  by 
removing  the  principal  offender  to  the  bar  of  a  higher 
judgment,  and  allowing  the  escape  of  the  other,  of 
whom  the  city  was  well  rid,  if  in  truth  he  were  a  wiz 
ard,  one  of  a  class  whom  the  justice  of  Metz,  following 
the  example  of  the  Constable  of  France,  had  long  held  in 
particular  abhorrence.  It  seemed  expedient,  therefore, 
to  postpone  any  active  measures  looking  to  the  pursuit 
and  arrest  of  the  Italian ;  and  the  crowd  dispersed  as 
rapidly  as  it  had  gathered,  disappointed  by  the  tameness 
of  the  event. 

Later,  in  the  course  of  the  same  night,  the  state  bed 
in  Jean  Gugnot's  spare  chamber  at  Marville  received  as 
occupant  a  man  who  flung  himself  exhausted  beneath 
its  glittering  coverlet  after  removing  torn  and  mud- 
stained  garments,  and  stripping  from  the  upper  part  of 
his  body  a  corselet  of  Milan  mail  formed  of  fine  links 


LAMIA.  217 


of  steel  of  exquisite  pliability  and  strength  of  texture. 
"  The  prudent  man  can  laugh  at  fate,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  smiling  ;  "  and  sagacity  is  so  rare  a  quality  that  it 
is  accounted  sorcery." 


218 


THE    SHIELD    OF   THE    FLEUlt-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  DEED    OF   SALE. 

'ONTRASTED  with  the  melancholy 
night  without,  the  warmth  and  bright 
ness  of  their  hearth -fire  welcomed 
Claude  and  Robert  with  grateful  cheer. 
The  polished  oaken  rafters,  the  cornices 
and  wainscoting,  and  the  fluted  pilasters  of  the  mantle- 
piece,  gave  back  dancing  reflections  which  pervaded 
the  room  with  the  gayety  of  multiplied  sources  of 
light,  including  the  rounded  surfaces  of  some  ancient 
suits  of  armor  set  up  about  the  hall  in  empty  sem 
blance  of  the  departed  knights  who  had  worn  them. 
Upon  the  wall  hung  the  weapons  they  had  used,  — 
sword,  spear,  and  battle-axe,  —  each  with  its  history  of 
blood.  Here  was  a  Damascus  blade  which  Lord  Raoul 
had  wrested  from  a  Saracen  whose  head  he  straightway 
smote  from  the  shoulders ;  there  was  the  dented  sword 
with  which  Lord  Charles,  then  a  youth,  had  spilled 
much  Flemish  blood  in  the  charge  under  Clisson's 
command  at  Rosbecque. 

"  Thank  God  for  the  peace  of  solitude,"  exclaimed 


A   DEED    OF    SALE.  219 

Robert,  flinging  himself  upon  the  settle  at  his  wife's 
side,  where  she  had  seated  herself  in  front  of  the 
hearth,  shivering  and  holding  out  her  hands  to  the 
blaze.  "  Why  was  I  so  mad  as  to  invite  the  invasion 
of  our  happiness  by  a  chattering  crowd  who  can  add 
nothing  to  our  contentment,  and  who  bring  in  their 
train  only  confusion  and  disaster.  I  intend  now  to 
carry  you  off  to  Thichiemont,  order  the  drawbridge 
raised,  and  a  guard  at  outlook  to  shoot  down  a  new 
comer  without  question  or  quarter." 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  replied  Claude 
in  a  tremulous  voice,  "  unless  it  were  to  go  with  you 
to  some  distant  land  where  no  sound  of  a  familiar 
voice  could  reach  us." 

"  You  are  unnerved  by  this  night's  sad  event," 
said  Robert  sympathetically.  "It  was  for  your  sake 
as  well  as  my  own  that  I  refused  your  request  to 
give  shelter  to  the  unfortunate  minstrel;  for  I  feel 
that  we  should  defend  our  happiness,  while  we  may, 
from  a  cloud." 

"  This  wicked  Frangois  brings  trouble  wherever  he 
goes.  Here  is  the  letter  which  he  brought  me  from 
the  marshal.  You  must  read  it." 

"  You  said  that  David  brought  the  letter." 

"  Yes,  he  had  it  from  Frangois  to  deliver ;  and  it 
was  doubtless  in  regard  to  this  that  the  quarrel  arose ; 
so  that  in  reality  David  gave  his  life  for  my  sake." 


220  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  that,  for  David  was  the  first 
aggressor." 

"  The  actual  truth  can  never  be  known,"  said  Claude 
in  an  agitated  voice  ;  "  read  the  letter  which  I  warn 
you  will  not  please  you." 

"  To  the  noble  lady  Jeanne  Des  Armoises,  respectful  greeting  from 
her  former  companion  in  arms,  the  Marshal  de  Retz  :  — 
"  I  entreat  of  you  for  the  love  you  bear  France  to  send  me  at 
once  upon  receipt  of  this,  the  sum  of  a  thousand  crowns,  with 
which  I  mean  to  equip  a  company  for  the  king's  service  in 
Poitou.  Since  you  will  not  come  in  person  to  the  war,  you  can 
do  no  less  than  give  the  aid  I  ask  to  subsidize  a  troop  which 
shall  be  called  by  the  name  of  the  Pucelle,  and  fight  under  her 
banner,  and  thus  bring  to  our  cause  the  spirit  which  led  to 
victory  at  Orleans  and  Troyes.  Lacking  any  sign  from  you,  the 
people  murmur  that  you  have  forsaken  them.  Do  not  deny  me. 
Remember  your  vow." 

The  letter  ended  with  formal  assurances  of  respect, 
and  was  signed  with  the  name  of  Gilles  de  Laval. 

Robert  mechanically  repeated  the  last  words.  "  Your 
vow,  what  is  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  live  unmarried,  and  devote  myself  to  the  cause 
of  France,"  she  said. 

"And  your  sweet  perfidy  must  cost  me  a  thousand 
crowns,"  replied  Robert.  "  So  be  it.  To-morrow  we 
will  ride  to  Haraucourt,  and  conclude  a  sale  of  lands 
to  which  I  have  long  been  urged,  but  never  would  give 


A  DEED   OF   SALE.  221 

consent,  since  I  was  unwilling  to  mulct  my  heirs  of 
acres  long  descended  in  our  line  from  father  to  son. 
Collard  de  Failly,  a  rich  squire  of  bourgeois  extrac 
tion,  has  long  cast  covetous  eyes  upon  that  quarter 
of  Haraucourt  which  adjoins  his  estate.  He  has  sued 
in  vain  to  me,  as  to  my  father,  for  the  chance  to  pur 
chase  it.  My  change  of  tone  will  please  him  well." 

Claude  flung  her  arms  about  her  husband's  neck,  and 
wept  upon  his  bosom  in  the  reaction  of  relief  from  the 
tension  of  her  fears ;  but  the  consciousness  of  the  lie 
which  she  had  perfunctorily  spoken  in  answer  to  his 
question,  and  the  thought  of  the  double  deceit  which 
had  won  from  him  such  generous  consent,  gave  bitter 
ness  to  her  tears. 

She  did  not  know  all  that  it  cost  Robert  to  relin 
quish  a  purpose  so  dear  to  him  as  the  improvement  of 
his  inheritance  for  the  sake  of  those  who  should  come 
after  him,  and  also  of  those  who  held  their  lands  at 
his  pleasure,  and  whose  welfare  was  contingent  upon 
his  decision.  She  was  not  aware  that  her  husband 
lay  sleepless  at  her  side  until  daybreak,  debating  the 
question  how  he  could  best  fulfil  his  promise  to  her, 
and  at  the  same  time  protect  the  interests  of  his  feudal 
tenants. 

History  keeps  no  record  in  its  time-worn  archives 
of  the  blood  and  tears,  the  heart-throbs,  crimes,  treach 
eries,  and  stratagems,  which  have  indirectly  contrib- 


222  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

uted  to  the  results  which  it  notes  down,  and  lays 
aside  for  the  perusal  of  future  generations,  who,  if 
they  have  illumined  eyes,  may  read  between  the  lines 
words  of  prophetic  adjuration  which  can  move  the 
dry  bones  of  dead  facts  to  conscious  life. 

A  yellow  manuscript  still  preserves  the  record  of  a 
sale  of  a  portion  of  the  land  of  Haraucourt  in  these 
words  :  — 

"  We,  Robert  des  Harmoises,  knight,  lord  of  Thichiemont,  and 
Jeanne  du  Lys,  the  Pucelle  of  France,  lady  of  the  said  Thichie 
mont,  my  wife,  licensed  and  authorized  by  me,  Robert  above 
named,  to  agree  and  accord  in  all  that  follows,  make  known  to 
all  to  whom  these  presents  may  come  that  we  conjointly  together 
and  with  a  common  consent  and  each  of  us  by  himself  and  for 
both,  have  sold,  ceded,  and  transported  to  the  honorable  person, 
Collard  de  Failly,  squire,  living  at  Marville,  and  to  Poinsette,  his 
wife,  the  fourth  part  that  we  have  and  may  have  ...  in  all  the 
town,  limits  and  confines  of  Haraucourt,"  etc. 

"  Witnessed  by  our  dear  and  great  friend,  Jeande  Thoneletil, 
Lord  of  Villette,  and  Saubelet  de  Dun,  Provost  of  Marville,  who 
certify  that  it  was  made  and  done  in  the  year  of  grace  1436,  in 
November,  7th  day." 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  sale  which  had  kept 
them  a  week  at  Marville,  Des  Armoises  and  his 
wife  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Thichiemont,  which,  in 
the  chill  November  weather,  was  a  dreary  solitude 
of  dun  meadows,  lowering  skies,  and  frozen  wastes, 


A   DEED   OF   SALE.  223 

• 

traversed  only  by  the  wild  marsh  fowl  and  their 
kindred  of  the  woods. 

The  creatures  of  the  wilderness  had  nothing  now 
to  fear  from  old  Nicole,  whose  advancing  infirmities 
kept  him  within  doors  in  a  state  of  perpetual  revolt 
against  his  destiny  and  the  conditions  of  the  universe, 
which  made  him  less  than  ever  an  agreeable  compan 
ion. 

What  had  been  a  mere  humorous  suggestion  now 
seemed  to  Des  Armoises  a  delightfully  feasible  scheme ; 
and,  with  Claude's  willing  consent,  the  stay  at  Thichie- 
mont  lengthened  into  a  winter's  sojourn.  Storms, 
snow,  and  ice  kept  the  two  as  landlocked  prisoners 
in  the  gray  old  tower,  whose  mighty  walls  resisted  the 
northern  blast,  and  whose  vaulted  rooms,  chilly  in 
the  summer  time,  afforded  a  snug  shelter  when  the 
fires  roared  in  the  chimneys,  heavy  tapestries  were 
drawn  over  the  narrow  windows,  and  thick  carpets 
covered  the  floors. 

Although  Nicole  secretly  rejoiced  that  Thichiemont, 
after  years  of  alienation,  should  serve  once  more  as 
home  to  the  family  whose  earliest  domain  it  had 
been,  the  habit  of  the  grumbler  would  not  permit 
him  to  accept  the  situation  without  criticism.  Being 
the  stiffest  of  conservatives,  it  seemed  to  him  an 
unpardonable  innovation  that  the  lord  and  lady  of 
Thichiemont  should  thus  immure  themselves,  content 


224  THE   SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

with  the  service  of  a  few  domestics,  and  no  society 
but  their  own. 

"  It  is  a  thing  unheard-of,"  he  said  to  Andrd  Gosson, 
who  had  braved  the  weather,  under  the  spur  of  a  con 
suming  curiosity  to  learn  the  truth  of  the  affairs  at 
Thichiemont.  "  No  man  iri  his  senses  would  act  as 
he  does.  To  my  mind  it  is  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff 
that  he  is  unde'r  the  power  of  enchantment.  They 
say  that  she  was  twice  accused  of  witchcraft,  and 
only  escaped  the  flames  at  Rouen  by  the  arts  of  magic. 
I  have  no  doubt,  that,  on  some  of  these  dark  nights, 
she  may  leave  my  lord  sleeping  while  she  takes  the 
form  of  a  wolf  to  roam  in  the  forest.  Yesterday  at 
midnight  I  heard  one  howl  in  most  unearthly  fashion, 
and  my  blood  ran  chill  at  the  sound." 

"  I  have  heard  it  said  that  she  deals  in  black  magic, 
arid  has  stolen  the  shape  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  to 
seduce  my  lord's  affection,"  replied  Gosson ;  "  but  this 
I  find  it  hard  to  credit.  Still  less  can  I  believe  her 
to  be  a  were-wolf.  She  has  a  winning  smile,  and, 
to  my  mind,  appears  to  be  a  good  woman." 

"Trust  no  woman  for  appearance's  sake,"  responded 
Nicole.  "  They  are  all  arch-traitors  where  men  are 
concerned." 

"  But  what  particular  charges  can  you  make  against 
her  ?  "  asked  Gosson. 

"  Look   at   the    dreariness    of    Thichiemont   at    this 


A   DEED   OF   SALE.  225 

season,"  replied  Nicole.  "  Consider  the  emptiness  of 
our  larder  since  the  roads  are  impassable,  the  servants 
indolent,  and  I  unable  to  leave  the  house.  Then  note 
that  my  lord  and  lady  are  like  two  children  out  on 
a  holiday.  They  laugh  and  chatter  from  morning 
to  night,  when  there  is  little  enough  cause  for  merri 
ment.  At  other  times  they  will  sit  in  the  same 
chair  and  read  from  a  book,  or  he  will  read  and  she 
will  listen;  and,  though  so  dull  and  meaningless  is 
the  tale  that  one  page  of  it  would  set  me  to  sleep 
like  an  opium  draught,  they  will  spend  hours  on  it. 
Then  they  will  have  games  of  hide-and-seek,  with 
kisses  for  forfeits ;  and  a  surfeit  of  such  fines  they 
must  have,  and  brazen  they  are  in  bestowing  them 
before  my  very  eyes. 

"Now  tell  me,  Gosson,  as  a  man  who  has  seen  the 
world,  did  you  ever  know  a  young  gallant  with  a 
face  and  form  so  attractive  to  women  to  sit  content 
in  a  chimney-corner  with  a  wife  six  months  after 
marriage,  having  no  thoughts  for  any  one  else,  or 
any  wish  to  leave  her  side?  But,  if  you  will  listen 
to  stories  of  enchantment,  you  will  find  his  case  not 
an  uncommon  one  in  knights  who  are  bewitched  by 
a  sorceress  like  Melusina,  and  kept  weeks  and  months 
with  her  in  some  grotto  or  desert  island." 

Gosson  reflected  with  his  head  on  one  side,  while 
he  held  a  glass  of  wine  up  to  the  light  to  catch  the 


226  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

sunbeams  like  a  garnet  gem.  "Love  is  a  thing  that 
lasts  longer  in  some  cases  than  others,"  he  said.  "  Six 
months  of  kisses  when  I  was  young  could  not  tire  out 
my  liking  for  them." 

"  I  never  knew  a  wedded  couple  that  lived  without 
a  quarrel    so   long   as   that,"   muttered   Nicole,   deter 
mined  to  have  the  last  word. 
•* 

With  the  spring  sunshine,  which  grew  daily  warmer 
as  the  hours  of  light  invaded  the  period  of  darkness, 
the  melting  snow  and  ice  caused  troublesome  freshets 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Thichiemont.  The  race-course 
by  the  mill  was  full  of  floating  ice-cakes,  which  threat 
ened  the  safety  of  the  ancient  construction  where  the 
farmers  ~of  the  district  for  years  had  ground  their 
wheat  and  barley.  The  peasants  turned  out  to  the 
assistance  of  the  miller  and  his  men.  Some  of  the 
wretched  thatched  cottages  on  the  lower  banks  of 
the  stream  were  already  under  water ;  and  their  inhab 
itants  had  abandoned  their  miserable  possessions  to 
the  mercy  of  the  waves,  taking  refuge  upon  a  hill 
near  by,  from  which  they  viewed  the  scene  of  destruc 
tion  with  the  composure  of  fatalists  trained  in  the 
expectation  of  calamity  as  the  rule  of  life. 

Among  the  men  who  stood  knee-deep  in  the  flood 
which  covered  the  meadows,  directing  the  work  of 
rescue  in  the  cow-sheds  and  poultry  yards  of  the 


A   DEED   OF    SALE.  227 

more  prosperous  cultivators,  the  peasants  recognized 
the  Lord  of  Thichiemont. 

"'Tis  a  good  man,"  said  a  woman  who  sat  upon  a 
rock  with  a  child  at  her  breast,  and  three  half-naked 
youngsters  clinging  to  her  skirts.  "  See  him  yonder 
with  a  chicken-coop  under  his  arm,  and  a  kid  flung 
over  his  shoulder." 

"Aye,  he  will  save  the  animals  of  those  who  have 
them  to  pay  rent  with,"  answered  her  husband  with 
a  harsh  laugh.  "  Our  bits  of  duds  may  go  at  the 
devil's  will,  and  no  word  said." 

"  They're  not  worth  the  counting,"  replied  the  wife. 
"  There  goes  the  baby's  cradle  you  hollowed  from  a  log." 

"  Logs  are  plenty,  and  so  are  babies,  God  help  us," 
said  her  sister-in-law,  who  sat  rocking  herself  back  and 
forth  in  bodily  pain  and  mental  anguish. 

A  servant  wearing  the  badge  of  the  family  at  the 
Tower  approached  the  group  with  a  supercilious  air, 
as  if  reluctant  to  deliver  his  message.  "My  lord 
says  that  those  who  are  left  homeless  are  to  take 
refuge  at  Thichiemont  lodge,  and  that  the  wife  of 
Louis  the  swineherd  is  to  have  a  bed  in  my  lady's 
suite  of  rooms,  and  to  be  attended  in  her  need  by 
the  midwife  from  Marville,  who  has  been  bespoken 
for  my  lady  for  the  coming  month." 

"  God  in  heaven !  "  cried  the  woman,  bursting  into 
tears. 


228  THE   SHIELD   OP   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  Aye,  'tis  a  good  man !  "  exclaimed  her  brother-in- 
law  with  an  oath.  "  May  my  tongue  be  shrivelled  to 
the  roots  if  ever  I  allow  the  contrary." 

The  floods  subsided,  and  green  things  grew  among 
the  wreckage  and  ooze  that  marked  their  devastating 
course.  Trees  began  to  bourgeon  in  evidence  of  the 
abounding  life  that  stirred  within.  The  promise  of 
an  endlessly  recurring  hope,  the  triumph  of  joy  over 
sorrow,  this  was  the  assurance  of  every  expanding 
blossom  and  every  bursting  cocoon. 

Robert  walked  forth  at  sunset  with  his  eyes  filled 
with  joyful  tears  which  blurred  the  radiant  horizon 
into  an  image  as  vague  as  the  vast  but  undefined 
delight  which  flooded  his  soul. 

"  The  lady  of  Thichiemont  has  presented  my  lord 
with  a  fine  pair  of  twin  sons,"  Nicole  announced  to 
the  assembled  villagers ;  and  a  hoarse  shout  greeted 
the  joyful  tidings,  which  being  carried  to  Haraucourt 
by  a  messenger  set  all  the  bells  ringing,  and  the  chap 
lain  to  intoning  a  service  of  thanksgiving.  Gifts  were 
distributed  among  the  tenantry  of  both  estates,  and 
open-air  feasts  were  spread  where  all  might  drink 
the  health  of  the  young  heirs  and  their  mother.  So 
promising  an  event  had  not  been  so  happily  cele 
brated  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  tenant. 


THE   SWOKD   OF    DAMOCLES. 


229 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   SWORD   OF   DAMOCLES. 

ECURE  in  the  retirement  of  forest- 
bound  Thichiemont,  and  defended  by 
the  mystic  halo  of  motherhood,  Claude 
allowed  the  summer  days  to  pass  with 
out  a  care.  The  haunting  shadow  of 
her  destiny  was  left  behind  in  Metz, 
and  she  had  no  mind  to  revive  its  power  by  anticipa 
tion  or  recollection.  The  money  procured  from  the 
sale  of  the  hinds  of  Haraucourt  had  been  forwarded 
to  the  address  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  through  the 
agency  of  Jean  Gugnot,  the  silversmith  and  money 
lender  of  Marville.  At  the  same  time  had  come  the 
intelligence  of  David's  death.  He  had  lingered  a  few 
days,  recovering  a  temporary  vitality  like  the  last 
flicker  of  the  candle  in  its  socket,  and  then  the  breath 
of  life  had  suddenly  gone  out.  With  these  events 
that  chapter  in  her  life  had  closed,  she  hoped,  forever. 
Father  Ambrose,  who  had  lived  in  retirement  since 
Claude's  marriage,  had  come  at  her  request  to  offi 
ciate  at  the  christening  of  her  children.  In  her  inter- 


230  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

course  with  him,  she  could  maintain  the  absolute 
sincerity  which  was  so  great  a  relief  to  her  conscience, 
burdened  by  the  subterfuge  and  diplomacy  she  had 
to  practice  with  others.  In  Ambrose's  presence,  to 
be  sure,  a  cloud  was  cast  upon  the  sunniest  day ; 
for  his  intense  consciousness  of  right  and  wrong  would 
not  permit  her  to  forget  the  sin  they  shared,  though 
with  the  arguments  of  skilful  casuistry  he  main 
tained  that  the  only  real  guilt,  that  of  choice,  was 
his,  while  she  was  the  unhappy  victim  of  necessity ; 
and  upon  her,  in  this  character,  he  poured  the  sweet 
est  balm  of  charitable  consolation. 

The  priest  had  developed  into  a  fuller  and  more 
genial  nature  than  that  of  the  hermit  of  the  past. 
The  life  of  expiatory  penance  which  he  had  proposed 
to  himself  as  an  atonement  for  another's  sin  had 
brought  with  it  a  more  evident  reward  than  when 
such  sacrifices  had  been  made  for  self  alone.  The 
warmth  of  a  human  affection,  purified  as  it  was  from 
all  leaven  of  self-seeking,  drew  him  beyond  the  bar 
ren  sphere  of  an  egotistic  isolation,  and  gave  form 
and  purpose  to  the  vague  aspirations  of  his  soul. 

Before  he  left  Thichiemont,  where  his  stay  was 
brief,  he  surprised  Claude  by  declaring  a  resolution 
lately  determined  upon,  but  long  in  contemplation. 

"  I  mean  to  leave  my  selfish  solitude,  daughter," 
he  said,  "  to  enter  upon  the  work  of  priest  in  a 


THE   SWORD   OF   DAMOCLES.  231 

large  city,  where  poverty,  ignorance,  and  vice  stretch 
out  appealing  hands  for  aid.  I  have  sought  and  ob 
tained  the  place  of  assistant  priest  in  the  church  of 
St.  Seglenne  in  Metz.  Here  I  shall  have  you  and 
your  children  under  my  care ;  and  the  children  of 
the  poor  shall  be  mine  also ;  and  those  who  have 
no  helper,  whom  I  must  seek  in  the  dark  haunts 
of  sin.  The  fields  lie  ripe  for  harvest,  waiting  for 
the  reaper.  I  wonder  I  have  lingered  so  long  in 
the  wilderness.  The  Master  spent  there  forty  days 
out  of  three  years  of  service;  while  I  in  three  years 
of  contemplation  have  not  given  forty  days  to  active 
work."  He  explained  the  details  of  his  scheme,  and 
spoke  of  the  satisfaction  which  he  found  in  it. 

Claude  listened  absently,  with  her  smiling  gaze 
fixed  upon  the  cradle  which  contained  her  sleeping 
children. 

-  "  Oh,  Metz,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  I  may  never 
see  it  again,  and  never  enter  that  dismal  church 
with  a  murder  beneath  its  walls.  I  have  known 
happiness  only  in  Thichiemont."  Here  she  began  to 
sing  a  crooning  melody  which  nature  taught  the 
earliest  mother  when  love  first  set  itself  to  a  tune. 

Ambrose  felt  a  momentary  pang  of  disappointment. 
When  he  left  Thichiemont  he  knew  that  the  pain 
of  parting  existed  only  for  him. 

The     claims    of    this    new,    absorbing    mother-love 


232  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUE-DE-LIS. 

cost'  Robert  more  than  one  jealous  moment.  Life 
in  Claude's  eyes  had  entirely  altered  its  proportions ; 
to  him  they  remained  unchanged.  The  young  Raoul 
and  Robert  were  intrusive  facts,  not  to  be  hence 
forth  ignored  in  the  scheme  of  existence ;  but  to 
the  father  their  importance  did  not  predominate  all 
else  in  the  orderly  arrangement  of  the  universe  which 
had  preceded  them.  The  cosmos  did  not  on  their 
account  need  to  set  itself  to  a  new  pattern,  nor  the 
music  of  the  spheres  require  a  readjustment  of  pitch. 
Some  such  jesting  remark  made  to  his  wife  came 
near  to  precipitating  their  first  quarrel. 

"A  man  can  never  understand  a  woman's  heart," 
said  Claude,  concluding  the  discussion. 

"  Which  serves  to  remind  me,  love,"  answered 
Robert,  "that  I  have  of  late  bitterly  reproached  my 
self  that  I  did  not  urge  you  to  have  your  mother 
with  you  at  a  time  when  her  sympathy  would  be 
most  grateful.  It  is  not  now  too  late.  I  will  send 
for  her  to  come  at  once  to  Thichiemont.  Indeed, 
such  would  have  been  my  course  long  since,  if  I 
had  not  known  that  after  her  return  to  'Domre'my, 
she  lay  ill  with  rheumatic  fever,  unable  to  move  from 
the  bed." 

Claude  started,  and  grew  pale. 

"  It  would  not  do,"  she  said  hastily.  "  If  well,  the 
journey  would  make  her  ill  again.  Do  not  think  I 


THE   SWORD   OF   DAMOCLES.  233 

need   any  other   than   yourself.      O  Robert!   you   are 
all  the  world  to  me." 

With  this  followed  tears,  kisses,  and  a  tenderer 
consciousness  of  mutual  love. 

Ambrose  sat  in  the  chair  within  the  confessional 
of  St.  Seglenne,  sheltered  from  the  view  of  the 
worshippers  in  the  church,  but  able,  if  he  chose,  to 
observe  their  coming  and  going  through  the  grated 
aperture  where  the  kneeling  penitent  poured  his  con 
fession  into  the  ear  of  the  priest.  The  hour  was 
almost  over;  and  he  was  waiting  for  the  striking  of 
the  clock  which  should  release  him,  occupied  mean 
time  in  the  sort  of  musing  revery  which  is  the  re 
laxation  of  mental  effort.  After  a  day  of  active 
labor  among  the  multitude,  a  sustained  train  of  medi 
tation  was  less  easy  than  in  his  hermitage  ;  perhaps 
on  this  account  the  tone  of  his  mind  was  more  habit 
ually  cheerful,  and  the  problems  of  life  pressed  less 
heavily  upon  him.  The  young  priest  of  St.  Seglenne 
had  become  a  power  in  Metz.  Hundreds  thronged 
the  church  to  hear  him  preach  ;  and  hearts  were 
stirred  as  by  the  crying  of  the  voice  in  the  wilder 
ness.  His  look  and  carriage  showed  something  of 
the  dignity  of  success,  and  a  modest  satisfaction  in 
deserved  applause. 

At  this  moment  a  late  penitent  entered,  and  knelt 


234  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUIi-DE-LIS. 

before  the  grating,  and  the  priest  bent  his  head  to 
listen  while  the  confession  began  in  the  prescribed 
manner.  The  penitent's  voice  was  low,  and  her- 
utterance  broken  and  incoherent;  and  the  tale  to 
which  the  priest  listened  with  a  divided  attention 
seemed  a  rambling  rhapsody.  The  woman  was  young  ; 
and  her  features,  so  far  as  they  were  visible  beneath 
her  hood,  were  beautifully  modelled,  in  the  conscious 
ness  of  which  Ambrose  withdrew  his  eyes  and  fixed 
them  upon  his  crucifix. 

"  It  was  your  sermon  on  the  subject  of  the  sin  of 
Achan,  father,"  she  said,  "  that  led  me  to  see  my 
duty  clearly.  Each  one  of  us,  you  said,  has  in  his 
heart  an  accursed  thing,  buried,  but  not  forgotten, 
and  plain  in  the  sight  of  God.  Since  hearing  your 
words,  it  has  been  as  if  a  voice  sounded  day  and 
night  in  my  ears,  urging  me  to  tell  the  secret  that 
I  have  kept  hidden  so  long  for  the  sake  of  others. 
But,  from  thinking  so  long  upon  the  matter,  I  have 
confused  my  notion  of  right  and  wrong  concerning 
it,  and  I  need  your  counsel  to  strengthen  me  in  my 
decision.  I  must  first  tell  of  the  singular  way  in 
which  I  learned  the  secret. 

"  About  a  year  ago  my  brother  took  into  his  house 
a  man  who  had  been  foully  dealt  witli  and  nearly 
murdered  in  the  street.  And  this  was  not  altogether 
out  of  charity,  though  my  brother  has  a  good  heart; 


THE   SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES.  235 

but  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  this  man  possessed 
information  on  a  subject  which  he  would  give  a  for 
tune  to  be  master  of.  The  injured  man  recovered 
in  a  measure  his  consciousness  and  power  of  speech. 
But  my  brother  could  make  nothing  of  any  conversa 
tion  with  him ;  for  in  every  man's  face  the  stranger 
fancied  he  saw  that  of  his  enemy,  and  he  would  fall 
into  a  delirium  of  terror.  Only  with  me  he  would 
talk  reasonably,  though  in  disjointed  sentences.  One 
evening,  as  I  sat  alone  with  the  invalid,  I  saw  a 
change  in  his  face,  which  I  recognized  as  the  shadow 
of  death.  But  I  could  not  leave  my  place  ;  for  he 
held  my  hand,  and  poured  into  my  ears  a  whispered 
story  which  it  seemed  the  last  wish  of  his  life  to 
finish.  And  he  would  renew  the  narrative  after  a 
pause  and  a  sinking  away  that  bade  fair  each  time 
to  be  the  end.  In  look  and  manner  he  was  more 
rational  than  ever  before ;  but  the  story  he  told  was 
quite  incredible.  And  through  it  all  he  took  me  for 
another,  whom  he  addressed  as  Claude  or  Jeanne  or 
Catherine,  which  were  names,  I  found,  of  the  same 
application  in  his  fancy,  and  referred  to  the  Lady 
Jeanne  Des  Armoises,  whose  ardent  friend  he  was." 

Ambrose  started  into  sudden  attention.  "Tell  me 
his  story,  daughter,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  to  restrain 
the  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  As  for  that,  it  is  nothing  you  will  care  to  hear," 


236  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUll-DE-LIS. 

she  answered.  "  He  imagined  that  he  was  a  noble 
man  of  France,  Louis  Boisbourdon  by  name,  who  had 
incurred  the  king's  suspicion,  and  had  been  put  to 
the  torture,  sewn  in  a  sack,  and  thrown  in  the  Seine. 
From  this  extremest  peril  he  declared  he  had  been 
rescued  by  a  wizard  in  the  pay  of  the  Marshal  de 
Retz,  who  was  then  a  youthful  knight  high  in  favor 
with  the  king,  who  had  no  suspicion  of  his  evil  prac 
tices.  The  marshal,  if  you  will  believe  the  story,  had 
committed  a  murder,  which  he  concealed  by  sewing 
the  body  in  a  sack,  marked,  as  was  customary  in  crim 
inal  executions,  with  the  words,  '  Let  pass  the  justice 
of  the  king.'  On  the  evening  of  the  intended  exe 
cution,  the  marshal,  then  Sire  de  Laval,  was  on  the 
bridge  when  the  condemned  man  was  flung  into  the 
river.  In  the  darkness,  no  one  noticed  the  boat  wait 
ing  in  the  shadow  of  the  piers.  There  was  a  splash, 
an  eddy  in  the  water,  and  those  waiting  on  the  river- 
bank  lower  down  the  stream  saw  the  floating  sack 
which  the  wizard  in  the  boat  had  flung  into  the  waves 
at  the  same  time  that  he  had  withdrawn  the  other, 
out  of  which  he  rescued  the  miserable  wreck  of  human 
ity,  whom  his  care  and  skill  brought  slowly  back  to 
life.  It  was  in  something  like  these  words  that  I 
heard  the  tale  with  which  I  would  not  trouble  your 
holy  ears,  father,  except  for  the  solemnity  of  the  death 
bed  utterance,  and  the  strange  conclusion  which  the 


THE   SWOKD   OF   DAMOCLES.  237 

minstrel  gave  to  it ;  for  at  the  end  he  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  me,  and  said:  'I  have  told  you  my  secret,  Cather 
ine,  in  return  for  yours,  that  you  may  understand  how 
closely  our  destinies  resemble  each  other.  It  was  as 
easy  for  the  marshal  to  make  a  resurrected  Maid  of 
Orleans  out  of  her  living  counterpart  and  sister,  Cath 
erine,  as  for  him  to  thwart  the  justice  of  the  king, 
and  cheat  the  king  of  terrors  of  a  victim  already 
within  his  grasp.  In  the  one  case  he  has  made  a 
miserable,  homeless  wanderer  out  of  the  proudest  no 
bleman  in  France.  In  the  other,  I  pray  God  his  evil 
purpose  may  be  guided  and  overruled  to  secure  your 
happiness.'  Towards  the  last,  his  words  came  more 
faintly  and  with  a  greater  effort,  and  at  last  ceased ; 
and  he  died  in  my  arms  when  I  tried  to  lift  him  back 
upon  the  pillow  from  which  he  had  raised  himself." 

The  priest's  voice  to  his  own  ears  sounded  hoarse 
and  unnatural  as  he  replied,  "  Is  it  possible  that  you 
can  attach  the  slightest  credibility  to  the  delirium  of  a 
dying  man,  or  waste  a  precious  hour  in  relating  it?" 

"  My  situation  is  not  yet  plain  to  you,  father," 
was  the  reply.  "Ever  since  the  appearance  of  this 
new  Maid  of  Orleans  some  have  called  her  a  pre 
tender,  my  brother  Jean  among  the  rest,  and  more 
than  all ;  for  he  is  that  Jean  de  Novelonpont  who 
was  Jeanne  Dare's  first  companion  in  arms,  and  he 
knew  her  as  well  as  his  own  sister.  He  has  from 


238  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  first  declared  this  woman  to  be  an  impostor;  but 
he  has  always  maintained  that  it  is  by  the  power 
of  magic  that  she  has  assumed  Jeanne's  form.  The 
idea  that  her  sister  has  been  trained  to  represent  her 
would  make  all  clear  to  him.  This  is  the  clew  for 
which  he  has  been  unconsciously  searching;  and  I, 
his  sister,  possessing  it,  have  defrauded  him  of  what 
he  would  give  worlds  to  own.  It  was  out  of  pity  for 
the  Lady  Des  Armoises  that  I  did  it,  and  for  the 
sake  of  her  husband  who  has  been  kind  to  me.  Let 
the  blow  come  from  some  other  hand  than  mine, 
I  thought.  Let  their  happiness  last  while  it  may. 
Now  I  feel  that  in  concealing  a  lie  I  have  shared  its 
guilt;  for  you  told  us,  father,  that  we  should  pluck 
the  pleasant  sin  from  our  hearts  though  it  should  be 
like  plucking  out  an  eye,  or  severing  the  right  hand. 
I  have  determined  to  do  my  duty." 

"Why  come  to  me  for  counsel  if  your  decision  is 
made  ?  "  asked  the  priest  coldly. 

"Because  like  a  foolish  woman  I  dread  to  do  what 
I  know  will  give  pain.  It  is  as  if  by  a  word  I 
knew  that  I  should  bring  the  house  upon  my  head. 
Who  knows  what  the  consequences  may  be  ?  Assure 
me  that  I  am  right,  and  I  shall  have  the  strength 
of  your  words  to  support  me." 

"In  all  this  you  are  wasting  the  energies  of  your 
soul  and  conscience  on  that  which  is  as  empty  as  a 


THE   SWOED   OF   DAMOCLES.  239 

bubble  of  air,"  said  Ambrose.  "  The  story  you  have 
heard  is  of  no  more  consequence  than  the  sighing 
of  the  wind.  In  proof  of  which  I  will  tell  you 
what  few  know.  I  was  with  Catherine  Dare  when 
she  died,  and  myself  received  her  last  confession, 
and  closed  her  eyes.  Jeanne  Dare  had  no  other  sister." 

Eudeline  felt  a  weight  lifted  from  her  soul.  A 
sudden  rush  of  tears  filled  her  eyes.  "  How  ^weak 
and  foolish  I  must  appear  to  you,  father,"  she  said 
contritely. 

"  You  have  allowed  your  sober  judgment  to  give 
place  to  wild  imaginings,"  he  replied.  "To  regain 
the  calm  which  every  Christian  should  cherish  in  his 
soul,  read  daily  some  meditation  on  the  lives  of  the 
saints.  You  will  be  less  likely  to  be  led  astray  by 
idle  fancies.  Say  ten  extra  Pater  Nbsters  before  leav 
ing  the  church ;  and  now  depart  with  my  blessing. 
Pax  vobiscum" 

Eudeline  rose  with  glad  alacrity,  and  remained  for 
a  time  in  prayer  before  the  shrine  of  St.  Seglenne ; 
while  Ambrose,  rising  to  his  feet  in  his  narrow  closet, 
flung  his  arms  into  the  air,  then  clasped  and  wrung 
his  hands  and  bent  his  head  upon  them. 

"I  have  lost  my  soul  for  her  sake,"  he  groaned. 
An  hour  later  he  was  kneeling  in  the  empty  church, 
wrestling  with  a  despair  which  he  knew  could  have 
no  alleviation. 


240  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUH-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE   SWORD   FALLS. 

EFORE  winter  came  on,  Des  Armoises 
returned  with  his  family  to  Metz, 
and  the  sombre  old  house,  upon  which 
the  shadow  of  St.  Seglenne's  spire 
fell  daily,  was  filled  from  top  to  bot 
tom  with  the  stir  of  joyous  life. 

The  day  upon  which  the  twins  were  six  months 
old  was  also  that  upon  which  Charles  the  Well- 
Served  entered  the  capital  of  his  kingdom ;  but  in 
the  calendar  of  the  house  of  Des  Armoises  its  title 
to  importance  was  found  in  the  first  circumstance 
rather  than  the  last. 

The  Marshal  de  Retz  sent  a  letter  to  the  Lady  Des 
Armoises  describing  the  entry  into  Paris :  — 

"  The  king  rode  in  splendid  attire  "  [he  wrote],  "  with  the  dau 
phin  at  his  side,  and  the  squire  who  held  his  bridle  was  no  other 
than  your  former  squire,  Jean  D'Aulon.  This  was  of  course  in 
compliment  to  the  Pucelle,  and  indirectly  to  myself.  But  to  off 
set  this  concession  to  the  popular  feeling,  the  member  of  the 
University  who  preached  the  sermon  of  welcome  was  the  ex- 


THE    SWORD    FALLS.  241 

ecrable  Nicole  Midi,  friend  of  Cauchon,  and  bitter  persecutor 
of  Jeanne  Dare.  Thus  does  our  royal  master  deal  out  the  bitter 
with  the  sweet,  as  if  unwilling  ever  to  show  too  great  apprecia 
tion  for  the  services  of  his  friends." 

The  winter  of  1437  and  1438  was  long  remembered 
in  stricken  France  as  one  of  misery  and  distress, 
when  heaven  itself  seemed  to  withdraw  its  mercy, 
and  the  elements  warred  with  those  who  were  already 
reduced  to  the  last  extremity  by  the  cruelty  of  man. 
Continued  rains  had  spoiled  the  harvest,  and  with 
the  advancing  season  the  inclemency  of  the  weather 
increased.  Rivers  were  swollen,  lowlands  flooded,  and 
villages  swept  away;  while  their  inhabitants,  if  they 
escaped  the  waves,  perished  by  hunger.  Pestilence 
and  famine  stalked  through  the  land ;  hungry  wolves 
howled  in  the  streets  of  Paris ;  and  bandits  who  had 
less  mercy  than  the  wolves  ravaged  the  country. 

A  petition  for  aid  was  addressed  to  the  king,  and 
pitiful  indeed  was  this  Complaint  of  the  Poor  Labor 
ers ;  but  when  did  Charles  give  succor  to  those  who 
relied  upon  him?  and  how  could  the  weak  and  vacil 
lating  monarch  repress  the  ravages  of  the  brigands 
who  were  his  own  captains  of  war? 

One  April  morning  the  sun,  breaking  through  the 
clouds  that  hung  low  over  the  valley  of  the  Moselle, 
revealed  a  desolate  landscape  where  shallow  lakes 


242  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS 

reflected  its  light  from  what  should  be  the  undulat 
ing  surface  of  cultivated  fields.  The  high  roads  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Metz  were  a  succession  of  gullies 
and  pitfalls,  which  the  soldiers  from  the  several  for 
tresses  were  deputed  to  repair,  giving  travellers  such 
aid  as  they  required. 

Over  one  of  these  difficult  and  uneven  roadways, 
Robert  Des  Armoises  was  approaching  the  city  on  his 
return  from  Thichiemont,  where  he  had  been  sum 
moned  by  the  tidings  of  a  disastrous  flood,  the  report 
of  which  was  so  far  from  being  exaggerated  that  the 
reality  which  he  encountered  exceeded  his  expecta 
tions.  He  found  that  the  village  was  under  water, 
scores  of  lives  had  been  lost,  and  a  shallow  sea 
stretched  where  the  marshes  had  been  on  every  side 
of  Thichiemont  lodge.  To  enter  the  abode  of  his 
ancestors,  it  had  been  necessary  to  set  forth  upon  an 
extemporized  raft,  propelled  by  two  stout  peasants 
with  long  poles  in  their  hands,  and  landing  at  the 
inner  courtyard,  to  cross  the  wet  paving-stones  in 
water  up  to  the  ankle. 

Old  Nicole  received  his  lord  with  a  jeremiad  of 
woes  which  he  poured  forth  unceasingly  in  the  ears 
of  a  listener  whose  sympathy  was  assured ;  for  the 
sorrows  which  weighed  most  heavily  on  the  heart  of 
the  faithful  servitor  of  the  house  of  Thichiemont 
were  those  concerning  its  future  as  revealed  by  a 


THE   SWORD   FAX,LS.  243 

prophecy  whose  verity  none  could  question.  Nicole's 
father  and  grandfather  had  known  it  in  their  day, 
and  none  could  say  how  far  back  its  origin  might  be 
traced. 

"  When  ships  shall  ride  at  Thichiemont  tower 
That  name  shall  cease  forever  more." 

So  ran  the  lines  which  Nicole  declared  had  not 
ceased  to  sound  in  his  ears  since  he  observed  the 
waters  of  the  lagoons  rising  slowly  but  surely  where 
water  had  never  been  before. 

"In  my  grandfather's  time,"  he  said,  "the  marshes 
were  only  green  meadows  crossed  by  brooks,  where 
cows  could  pasture ;  and  in  his  father's  memory, 
Thichiemont  had  often  been  put  to  hardship  for  lack 
of  water,  the  springs  in  the  meadow  not  being  full 
enough  to  supply  the  castle  and  the  crowds  that  then 
frequented  it.  Lord  William  used  to  laugh,  and  de 
clare  that,  according  to  the  prophecy,  the  line  of  his 
descendants  would  perpetually  endure.  But,"  con 
cluded  the  old  man  with  a  sigh,  "  that  which  is  to  be 
must  come,  and  none  can  hinder  it." 

Des  Armoises  tried  to  divert  his  steward's  mind 
from  its  melancholy  prepossessions,  but  without  avail ; 
and  he  left  him  still  maundering  and  shaking  his  head 
over  the  certain  downfall  of  the  race  he  had  served 
so  long,  and  whose  fate  he  meant  to  share ;  for  nothing 


244  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

would  induce  him  to  exchange  his  dismal  quarters 
for  others  more  secure  and  commodious. 

Robert  left  Thichiemont  with  spirits  clouded  by 
the  distress  and  suffering  which  he  had  been  able 
only  in  part  to  alleviate.  His  unfulfilled  intention  of 
draining  the  marsh-lands  recurred  to  him  less  as  a 
salve  to  his  conscience  than  as  a  cause  of  regret  for 
a  lost  opportunity ;  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  every 
life  that  had  been  cut  off  in  its  prime  could  be  laid 
to  the  charge  of  his  neglect. 

When  he  expressed  this  idea  to  his  friend,  the  Sire 
de  Villette,  whom  he  met  in  Marville,  that  gentleman 
laughed  loudly  at  his  scruples,  and  berated  him  for 
what  he  called  his  womanish  sentimentality.  "What 
matter  a  score  or  two  of  peasants  drowned,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  an  accident  like  any  other ;  and  happier  for 
them,  no  doubt,  since  their  souls,  if  they  have  souls, 
are  secured  by  church  and  priest  whose  faithful  ser 
vants  they  were,  and  their  bodies  are  at  rest.  As 
for  imagining  that  your  duty  requires  you  to  stand 
in  the  place  of  Providence,  and  bear  the  blame  for 
disasters  that  come  in  the  course  of  nature,  that  were 
too  absurd  a  magnifying  of  your  responsibilities.  So 
tender  a  conscience,  my  lord,  will  carry  you  no  farther 
than  to  the  nearest  monastery." 

Robert  took  his  friend's  rebuke  in  good  part,  realiz 
ing  that  he  who  possesses  ideals  higher  than  his  fel- 


THE    SWOBD    FALLS.  245 

lows  must  keep  his  own  counsel,  or  endure  reproach 
as  a  troublesome  fanatic.  He  pressed  on  his  journey 
eager  to  be  at  home,  and  feeling  his  heart  expand 
with  satisfaction  at  the  first  sight  of  the  spires  of  the 
city  rising  above  its  walls,  the  dark  masses  of  towers 
and  houses  girdled  by  the  shining  rivers,  whose  bridges 
hardly  served  to  span  the  swollen  waters. 

Urged  by  his  impatience,  he  left  the  safer  road,  and 
skirting  the  city  on  the  river  side,  climbed  the  hill 
that  led  to  the  Moselle  gate.  No  other  horseman  had 
been  bold  enough  that  day  to  attempt  the  passage  of 
loose  stones,  rain-filled  rivulets,  and  treacherous  mire 
into  which  the  late  storms  had  converted  the  ascent; 
and  the  gatekeeper  watched  him  curiously  as  he 
passed.  As  he  approached  his  house  Des  Armoises 
was  conscious  of  the  sudden  causeless  apprehension 
which  comes  to  the  returning  traveller  whose  anxious 
affection  makes  him  aware  that  all  the  joy  of  life 
hangs  on  a  thread  which  the  shears  of  Atropos  can 
sever  in  a  moment's  fatal  chance.  To  his  fancy  the 
house  had  an  unfamiliar  look,  and  the  servant  who 
ran  to  hold  his  bridle  stared  at  him  with  inquisitive 
scrutiny. 

"Are  all  well?"  he  asked  quickly.  "Is  your  mis 
tress  within  ?  "  and,  although  he  received  an  affirma 
tive  reply,  he  was  conscious  of  a  certain  reservation 
in  the  tone  of  it  which  added  to  his  vaofue  concern. 


THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

His  wife  was  alone ;  and  when  she  saw  him  she  ran 
forward  with  an  eager  exclamation,  but  stopped  at 
a  little  distance,  holding  herself  aloof,  and  looking  at 
him  with  a  penetrating  gaze  which  seemed  to  ques 
tion  his  inmost  thoughts.  "What  is  it,  Jeanne?" 
he  cried  with  a  sinking  heart.  "  Where  are  the  chil 
dren  ?  Has  anything  happened  to  their  hurt  ?  " 

"  My  love,  my  love  ! "  she  exclaimed,  flinging  her 
self  upon  his  breast,  and  returning  his  kiss  with 
passionate  tenderness.  "  The  children  are  well.  They 
are  now  with  my  mother,  who  cannot  let  them  go  a 
moment  from  her  sight." 

"  Your  mother  here  ?  "  he  asked  in  surprise. 

She  grew  pale,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she  asked, 
"You  have  heard  nothing?" 

He  shook  his  head.      "Tell  me  what  lias  chanced." 

At  this  moment  a  shadow  fell  across  the  threshold ; 
and  Jean  de  Metz  entered,  unannounced,  with  a  grave 
face  and  contracted  brow,  like  one  who  comes  as  a 
friend  into  a  house  of  mourning.  At  the  sight  of 
him  Claude's  expression  changed  into  a  convulsive 
look  of  fear  and  hatred.  "  He  is  your  enemy,  Robert," 
she  said.  "  Avoid  him,  and  believe  nothing  that  he  says." 

Des  Armoises  turned  a  frowning  brow  upon  the  in 
truder.  "What  is  your  business  here,  Novelonpont?" 
he  asked.  "I  am  weary  from  my  journey,  and  have 
no  time  nor  wish  to  welcome  visitors." 


THE    SWOKD    FALLS.  247 

De  Metz  gave  him  a  pitying  look.  "I  will  stay 
only  till  my  unhappy  task  is  done,"  he  answered. 
"Speak,  Lady  Des  Armoises,  or,  if  you  choose,  give 
me  leave  to  tell  the  story." 

Robert,  turning  in  surprise  from  one  to  the  other, 
saw  in  his  wife's  expression,  as  she  faced  Novelonpont, 
such  abject  entreaty  that  no  spoken  words  could 
have  added  to  the  appeal.  "Spare  me,"  her  eyes  im 
plored. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  cried  Des  Armoises. 
"  How  dare  you,  De  Metz,  terrify  my  wife  by  your  un 
friendly  and  threatening  manner?" 

"  Truth  must  out,"  answered  Novelonpont  in  a  hol 
low  voice.  "  My  poor  friend,  you  have  been  wofully 
deceived,  as  we  all  have  been,  by  a  pretender  set  up 
by  that  wicked  man,  the  Marshal  de  Ret/,  to  assume 
Jeanne  Dare's  place  and  character.  The  amazing  suc 
cess  of  this  imposture  was  made  possible  by  the  close 
resemblance  of  the  two  sisters,  and  the  prevalent  be 
lief  that  Catherine  Dare  died  long  since.  On  the 
contrary,  Jeanne's  death  at  Rouen  is  now  an  estab 
lished  fact,  and  this  woman,  your  wife,  is  her  sister 
Catherine." 

Robert  stood  like  a  man  who  receives  a  mortal  blow ; 
for  his  eyes,  fixed  on  his  wife's  face,  read  in  the  guilt 
and  anguish  visible  there  the  confirmation  of  these 
words. 


248  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE    FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

"Leave  us,  cruel  man,  since  you  have  done  your 
worst,"  cried  Claude,  wringing  her  hands ;  and  Nove- 
lonpont,  with  a  glance  at  his  friend's  blanched  and 
stricken  countenance,  obeyed. 

A  silence  fell  between  the  two,  broken  only  by  the 
sobbing  cry  with  which  Claude  cast  herself  at  her 
husband's  feet,  embracing  his  knees  in  a  mute  ap 
peal  for  mercy,  while  he  stood  for  a  moment,  rigid 
and  motionless,  as  if  suddenly  turned  to  stone ;  then, 
thrusting  her  aside  with  an  inarticulate  exclamation, 
he  staggered  to  a  seat,  bent  his  head  upon  his  hands, 
and  sat  staring  into  vacancy  with  eyes  that  saw  only 
the  crumbling  ruins  of  his  palace  of  enchantment,  and 
beheld  in  his  wife's  prostrate  form  a  detected  Lamia, 
cowering  in  the  shame  of  her  serpent  change. 

"Forgive  me,  forgive  me,  Robert,"  she  entreated. 
"The  marshal  forced  me  by  the  fear  of  death  to  take 
Jeanne's  place  and  name.  A  hundred  times  it  has 
been  in  my  mind  to  tell  you  the  truth ;  but  again  and 
again  I  feared  to  risk  your  anger.  If  you  knew  all 
as  it  happened,  you  would  forgive  me  as  my  brothers 
did.  Be  patient,  love,  and  I  can  make  you  under 
stand  that  in  all  this  I  have  been  the  victim  of  neces 
sity,  without  power  to  resist  that  which  I  hated  from 
my  soul." 

Her  voice  trembled  and  died  into  silence,  for  she 
realized  the  hopelessness  of  the  appeal.  It  was  as  if 


THE    SWORD    FALLS. 

an  impalpable  wall  had  suddenly  been  erected  be 
tween  her  and  her  husband;  and  through  it  voices 
sounded  as  mere  echoes,  the  clasp  of  hands  became  a 
ghostly  contact,  and  nothing  more  was  real  except 
the  pain  that  gnawed  at  the  heart  of  each,  remorse 
lessly  and  without  chance  of  alleviation. 

"God,"  exclaimed  Robert,  "why  could  I  not  have 
died  before  I  felt  this  blow?" 

Claude  knelt  before  him  with  her  face  buried  in 
her  hands,  praying  to  an  offended  God  for  an  impos 
sible  succor,  so  it  seemed  to  her  saddened  fancy. 
Often  as  she  had  pictured  this  moment  in  the  cer 
tainty  that  discovery  must  some  day  come,  she  had 
never,  until  now,  realized  the  inevitable  failure  of 
every  support  to  the  soul  that  does  not  rest  on 
truth. 

Following  an  unnoticed  tap  on  the  door,  Father  Am 
brose  entered  with  a  bent  head  and  a  dejected  air ;  and 
at  the  sight  of  him  Robert  started  from  his  stupefaction 
into  a  mood  of  furious  indignation. 

"  Here  comes  the  chief  offender,  the  arch  traitor,"  he 
said.  "  If  you  were  not  a  priest,  unworthy  as  you  are 
to  bear  that  name,  you  should  answer  with  your  life 
for  your  share  in  this  foul  conspiracy  against  me.  I 
can  suspect,  though  I  do  not  know  half  the  baseness 
of  your  position  as  a  spy  in  my  house  under  the  com 
mand  and  in  the  service  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz;  for 


250  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE  FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

at  this  moment  for  the  first  time  I  begin  to  perceive 
your  share  in  the  villainy  that  was  plotted  when  the 
marshal  was  at  Domre'my,  and  you  met  him  secretly 
at  night,  unnoticed  by  any  but  the  village  clown,  who 
in  view  of  the  result  has  proved  himself  wiser  than 
the  rest  of  us.  '  Say  Catherine  to  Ambrose,  and  see 
if  he  will  not  blush,'  those  were  his  sapient  words  ;  and 
I  rebuked  him  for  his  suspicion  of  a  holy  man,  and 
like  an  easy  dupe  swallowed  every  bait  prepared  for 
my  credulity.  My  grandfather  starved  his  wife  to 
death  for  suspected  infidelity ;  what  infidelity  can  com 
pare  with  this  daily  and  hourly  conspiracy  against  me  ? 
How  can  you  dare  to  look  me  in  the  eyes,  Catherine 
Dare,  remembering  with  what  measure  of  treachery 
and  deceit  you  have  rewarded  my  love  and  confidence  ? 
You  are  guilty  of  the  foulest  treason  ;  you  should  suffer 
the  traitor's  death ;  but  I  will  condemn  you  only  to  the 
torments  of  your  own  conscience,  and  the  shame  of  the 
world's  scorn.  Leave  my  house,  and  let  me  never  more 
see  the  devilish  beauty  of  your  false,  seductive  face. 
Your  children  may  return  with  your  mother  to  Dom 
re'my.  I  am  willing  to  entrust  them  to  her  care  on 
condition  that  they  do  not  know  you  as  their  mother, 
and  are  kept  in  ignorance  of  all  that  concerns  their 
parentage.  My  name  shall  never  survive  this  disgrace. 
Old  Nicole's  prophecy  is  fulfilled." 

He  left  the  room  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  and 


THE    SWOED   FALLS.  251 

for  a  moment  Claude  stood  gazing  after  him  in  silence  ; 
then  with  a  cry  of  lamentation  like  that  once  heard  in 
Ramah,  she  fell  at  Father  Ambrose's  feet,  and  uncon 
sciousness  mercifully  came  to  the  relief  of  her  tortured 
heart  and  brain. 


252  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

A  PROMISE. 

N  the  anteroom  Robert  came  upon  Nove- 
lonpont,  who  was  pacing  there  with 
gloomy  brow,  the  picture  of  a  man 
with  whom  success  has  all  the  quality 
of  defeat.  He  approached  his  friend, 
and  laid  a  timid  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  I  am  ready  to  offer  you  what  consolation  I  can  for 
the  grief  that  I  have  brought  upon  you,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  by  my  means  that  the  truth  has  come  to  light. 
Being  sure  that  we  had  to  do  with  a  work  of  enchant 
ment,  it  occurred  to  me  that  no  one  could  more  readily 
expose  the  deception  than  the  virtuous  mother  of 
Jeanne  Dare,  who,  on  one  pretext  or  another,  had  all 
this  while  been  kept  at  a  distance  from  her  supposed 
daughter.  I  therefore  arranged  that  Isabel  should 
meet  me,  unknown  to  her  sons,  in  Toul ;  and  from 
that  place  I  brought  her  with  me  by  boat  to  Metz, 
a  dangerous  journey,  since  the  freshet  has  obliterated 
all  landmarks ;  but  by  the  providence  of  God  we 
reached  here  in  safety.  Our  coming  was  kept  a  secret, 


A    PROMISE.  253 

as  I  had  hopes  of  surprising  the  truth  from  the  un 
masked  sorceress ;  and  I  contrived  accordingly  that 
we  should  be  introduced  unannounced  into  the  pres 
ence  of  the  lady  Des  Armoises ;  but  the  result  discon 
certed  my  expectations.  Isabel  gazed  for  a  moment, 
and  then  ran  forward  crying,  '  It  is  my  daughter  Cathe 
rine  ;  not  Jeanne,  but  Catherine.'  Taken  thus  com 
pletely  by  surprise,  your  unhappy  wife  so  far  forgot 
herself,  in  the  suddenness  of  her  vexation,  as  to  raise 
her  hand  against  her  mother.  She  struck  her,  crying, 
'Woman,  you  lie;'  and  the  next  moment  she  broke 
down  and  fell  a-weeping  with  grief  and  shame." 

Robert  groaned  as  he  said,  "  For  God's  sake,  leave 
me  to  myself,  Novelonpont.  I  can  bear  no  more ; 
I  am  hard  beset." 

"Courage,"  said  Novelonpont  sympathetically,  "your 
happiness  is  lost,  but  your  honor  need  not  be.  For 
your  sake  I  am  willing  to  keep  the  secret,  and  to 
trust  Jeanne's  fame  a  little  longer  to  the  keeping 
of  her  unfortunate  sister.  I  am  loath  to  bring  dis 
grace  upon  the  family  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  by 
allowing  this  to  become  an  open  scandal.  Let  Cath 
erine  retire  from  public  view,  and  end  her  days  in 
a  convent.  So  would  the  interests  of  all  concerned 
be  best  secured." 

"I  make  no  objection,"  answered  Robert.  "Nor 
am  I  likely  to  make  open  proclamation  of  this  dis- 


254  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

honoring  discovery.  Arrange  it  according  to  your 
wish." 

So  saying,  he  released  himself  from  De  Metz's  de 
taining  hold,  and  retired  to  his  study,  where  he  closed 
and  barred  the  door  against  all  comers. 

Novelonpont  went  to  take  counsel  with  the  priest, 
having  no  doubt  of  his  co-operation  in  a  scheme  which 
would  be  in  natural  agreement  with  his  preposses 
sions;  but,  to  his  surprise,  he  found  Father  Ambrose 
full  of  a  new  idea,  for  which  he  claimed  divine  in 
spiration.  It  had  been  revealed  to  him  in  a  vision, 
which  he  had  not  until  now  been  able  to  interpret, 
that  the  false  Jeanne  was  to  go  to  Rome,  receive  the 
blessing  and  absolution  of  the  Pope,  thereafter  to 
set  forth  upon  a  new  crusade  against  the  enemies  of 
France,  in  which  she  was  promised  the  assistance  of 
the  saints,  and  assured  that  the  mantle  of  her  sister 
should  fall  upon  her  shoulders. 

"  Can  you  not  see  the  hand  of  God  in  this  matter, 
overruling  the  evil  purpose  of  a  man  of  sin,  and 
making  him  but  the  instrument  of  the  divine  will?" 
said  Ambrose,  with  eager  conviction.  "  The  new 
Jeanne  has  been  raised  up  in  place  of  the  old.  Born 
in  the  same  house,  nourished  at  the  same  breast, 
wearing  the  same  features,  what  should  hinder  her 
from  doing  the  same  Avork  ?  The  misery  of  her  pres 
ent  position  results  from  the  fatal  mistake  she  made 


A    PROMISE.  255 

in  yielding  to  the  interference  of  her  brothers,  and 
to  the  alluring  voice  of  love,  and  so  giving  up  the 
mission  to  which  she  had  been  called.  Happier  were 
it  for  her  if  she  might,  as  you  suggest,  find  rest  from 
effort  and  forgetfulness  of  grief  in  a  convent;  but 
this  is  a  world  of  struggle  and  endeavor,  in  which 
we  are  not  weakly  to  lay  down  our  arms  before  the 
victory  is  won.  In  my  vision  it  was  plainly  declared 
that  the  new  Jeanne  was  to  go  to  Rome,  and  there 
receive  the  blessing  of  the  Pope,  which  would  give 
a  sanction  to  her  mission  which  no  one  in  the  future 
could  gainsay.  She  consents  to  this  on  one  condi 
tion,  a  condition  which  shows  that  her  heart  still 
clings  to  the  things  of  earth,  and  must  be  still  further 
chastened  by  misfortune,  before  it  can  reflect  the 
singleness  of  her  sister's  devotion.  She  means  first 
to  win  her  husband's  promise  of  forgiveness  as  con 
tingent  upon  the  success  of  her  undertaking.  Think 
you  that  she  can  succeed  in  this?" 

Novelonpont  shook  his  head.  "  The  Sire  Des  Ar- 
moises  would  have  no  faith  in  your  vision,  and  no 
confidence  in  her  resolve,"  he  answered.  "  He  is  cut 
to  the  heart  by  the  treachery  that  has  been  practiced 
against  him,  and  feels  the  bitter  anger  of  a  betrayed 
and  disappointed  man." 

"But  you,  my  friend,"  said  Ambrose,  "you,  who 
have  such  kindness  for  the  memory  of  Jeanne  Dare,  and 


256  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

such  sympathy  for  all  that  relates  to  her,  surely  you 
will  not  oppose  her  sister  in  the  attempt  to  follow 
in  her  footsteps,  and  to  complete  her  work  for  France." 

De  Metz  hesitated.  He  was  predisposed  by  the 
temper  of  his  mind  to  credit  the  marvellous,  and  to 
welcome  all  that  appealed  to  his  lively  imagination 
and  deep  religious  sense ;  in  this  spirit  he  had  been 
the  first  to  champion  Jeanne  Dare.  To  him  Ambrose's 
explanation  seemed  inherently  probable,  and  not  to 
be  lightly  set  aside  because  it  involved  inconvenient 
consequences.  That  it  must  bring  to  him  the  re- 
linquishment  of  the  settled  purpose  which  he  had 
so  long  pursued  might  be  only  a  just  correction  of 
the  fallacy  upon  which  it  was  based.  The  discon 
certing  surprise  of  Catherine  Dare's  reappearance  pre 
pared  him  to  admit  his  own  fallibility,  and  to  follow 
the  guidance  of  other  conclusions  than  his  own. 

"I  will  consider  the  matter,"  he  replied.  "I  am 
ready  to  do  what  is  right  if  I  can  find  where  the 
truth  lies." 

"  I  have  no  uncertainty  as  to  that,"  answered  Am 
brose.  "  I  have  never  doubted  the  heavenly  vision 
when  it  has  had  the  clearness  of  visual  evidence.  In 
this  case  I  have  seen  Jeanne  Dare  as  I  was  wont  to 
see  her  in  the  first  year  of  my  priesthood.  It  was 
her  voice  that  bade  her  sister  undertake  the  journey 
to  Rome." 


A    PROMISE.  257 

"These  things  are  beyond  my  understanding,"  re 
plied  De  Metz.  "It  may  be  well  to  leave  them  to 
the  test  of  time ;  and  I  consent  to  keep  the  secret  of 
the  new  Jeanne's  identity  for  the  present,  stipulating 
that  when  her  mission  is  fulfilled  she  shall  assume 
her  proper  character  as  the  successor  and  sister  of 
Jeanne  Dare,  leaving  the  glorious  image  of  the  true 
Messiah  of  France  undimmed  by  rivalry  or  the 
changes  of  time,  —  the  unique  example  of  heroic 
womanhood." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Ambrose  eagerly.  "  No  one  more 
than  myself  desires  to  rid  our  enterprise  of  the  stigma 
of  a  lie.  When  the  Pope  absolves  us  from  that  sin, 
I  hope  that  the  truth  can  be  made  known  without 
loss  or  shame." 

These  two  high-minded  conspirators  then  went  their 
way,  leaving  the  house  of  Des  Armoises  in  the  shadow 
of  its  grief,  which  was  broken  by  a  ray  of  cheer  only 
in  the  nursery,  where  Isabel  Romee  sat  with  her  grand 
sons  on  her  knees,  satisfying  the  yearning  of  her  long- 
thwarted  affection  by  lavishing  upon  them  the  fondest 
blandishments  of  maternal  love.  Here,  too,  a  tragic 
gloom  was  cast,  when  Claude,  entering,  flung  herself 
at  her  mother's  feet,  and  related  the  hopelessness  of 
her  estrangement  from  her  husband.  When  the  twi- 

O 

light  had  fallen,  and  the  children  had  been  laid  in  their 
canopied   cradles,   the   two  women   sat  hand   in  hand 


258  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

engaged  in  a  low  murmur  of  conversation,  in  that 
sympathy  of  heart  with  heart  which  is  possible  only 
between  mother  and  daughter. 

"  Come  home  with  me,  Catherine,"  said  Isabel. 
"  There  you  may  be  safe  and  happy.  You  can  have 
your  children  with  you,  and  that  will  be  enough  for 
your  contentment ;  while  they  will  be  the  surest  means 
of  winning  your  husband  back  to  you.  As  for  all  this 
talk  of  visions  and  pilgrimages,  I  have  no  patience 
with  it.  I  do  not  mean  to  lose  you  a  second  time, 
or  have  you  bring  the  vengeance  of  church  and  state 
upon  you  as  Jeanne  did.  One  daughter  sacrificed  to 
the  cause  of  France  is  enough." 

"  How  happy  I  should  be  if  I  might  agree  to  that," 
answered  her  daughter.  "But  Robert  must  first  give 
his  consent,  and  that  he  never  will ;  nor  will  he  return 
to  me.  His  love  has  turned  to  scorn  and  hatred,  while 
mine  for  him  is  so  undying  that  to  regain  his  affection 
I  would  give  up  my  children,  undertake  the  pilgrimage 
to  Rome  barefoot  if  need  be,  fight  in  the  wars,  and  do 
all  that  Jeanne  did,  if  I  might  win  the  respect  and 
reverence  he  gave  her.  Do  you  think,  mother,  that 
there  is  any  chance  of  his  forgiveness  ? " 

"To  be  sure;  why  not?"  responded  Isabel.  "One 
can  have  but  little  affection  for  husband  or  wife  who 
is  ready  at  the  first  discovered  fault  to  give  it  up." 

"Robert's  door  is  locked  against  me,"  said  Claude; 


A    PROMISE.  259 

"  I  cannot  gain  speech  with  him,  and  I  know  not  what 
design  he  may  be  harboring  against  me.  O  mother! 
I  am  the  most  unhappy  of  women,  to  have  possessed 
a  heart  so  noble,  and  to  have  lost  it  through  the  fault 
of  my  unhappy  fate." 

Isabel  would  not  consent  to  view  the  situation  in 
its  most  hopeless  aspect;  and  being  wearied  with  her 
journey  and  the  trying  events  of  the  day,  she  went 
to  her  bed,  counselling  her  daughter  to  do  the  same, 
trusting  to  Providence,  arid  to  the  better  cheer  which 
the  morrow  might  bring. 

When  the  house  was  dark  and  silent,  Claude  stole, 
as  she  had  done  many  times  before,  to  the  door  of 
her  husband's  study,  where,  after  tapping  softly  for 
admission,  and  being  denied  by  a  persistent  silence, 
she  sank  upon  the  threshold,  with  her  forehead  upon 
the  oaken  panel  of  the  door,  and  her  hands  clasped 
listlessly  in  her  lap.  She  heard  her  husband's  move 
ments  within ;  he  opened  drawers  and  boxes,  sorted 
and  arranged  papers,  and  then  for  hours  maintained 
an  enigmatic  silence.  Had  he  fallen  asleep,  or  was 
he  like  herself  sunk  in  a  trance  of  hopeless  melan 
choly?  As  the  night  waned  she  dozed,  and  in  her 
dreams  was  happy  and  forgiven ;  then  she  awoke  to 
the  consciousness  of  her  aching  heart,  chilled  frame, 
and  stiffened  limbs,  and  waited  in  motionless  suspense 
for  a  movement  in  the  room  within.  Hearing  nothing, 


260  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

a  sudden  terror  seized  her.  She  imagined  her  husband 
dead  by  his  own  hand,  his  beautiful  face  distorted  by 
the  last  agony,  and  his  glassy  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
with  a  look  of  undying  reproach.  At  the  horrible 
fancy  she  cried  out  in  alarm ;  and  in  reply  a  footfall 
sounded,  the  door  was  unbarred,  and  Robert  stood 
before  her,  and  made  a  motion  for  her  to  enter.  She 
sprang  to  his  side,  and  attempted  to  clasp  his  arm, 
but  he  repulsed  her  with  a  look  of  scorn. 

"  Sit  yonder,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  chair,  "  and 
tell  me  what  you  may  have  to  say  in  your  own 
defense.  The  worst  criminal  is  permitted  that;  and 
in  justice  to  myself  I  should  know  the  truth  of  your 
position,  if  truth  is  a  word  that  can  even  remotely 
be  applied  to  you." 

Thus  urged  to  speech,  words  for  the  moment  forsook 
the  unhappy  Claude.  With  clasped  hands  and  stream 
ing  eyes  she  flung  herself  at  her  husband's  feet,  sob 
bing  incoherent  entreaties  for  love  and  pardon.  Robert 
waited  with  an  air  of  forbearance  until  she  had  recov 
ered  herself ;  then  he  took  her  hand  and  led  her  to  a 
chair,  standing  before  her,  and  looking  down  upon  her 
with  a  face  of  anguish. 

Deceived  by  the  calm  of  his  manner  into  a  quick, 
delusive  hope,  Claude  began  her  story  with  words 
made  eloquent  by  emotion ;  and  Robert  listened,  feel 
ing  each  sentence  as  a  sword-thrust,  to  the  strange 


A    PROMISE.  261 

story  of  the  double  life  which  had  been  so  fair  in 
outward  seeming  while  within  it  was  a  festering 
crime. 

"Forgive  me  for  our  children's  sake,  Robert,"  she 
concluded,  "  and  for  the  sake  of  all  the  joy  that 
we  have  known  and  may  know  again  now  that  this 
terrible  secret  is  no  longer  a  barrier  between  us.  Let 
us  go  far  away,  to  Constantinople  or  the  distant  East, 
where  no  one  will  know  our  past,  and  where  we  can 
begin  a  new  life,  free  from  its  memory.  I  will  give 
you  such  love  and  devotion  as  will  make  you  happy, 
Robert.  Years  of  happiness  shall  atone  for  this  day 
of  grief." 

"You  appeal  to  our  love,  our  children,"  he  ex 
claimed;  "God  in  heaven!  they  are  the  witnesses  to 
your  damnation." 

"Is  there  no  hope?"  she  asked  with  trembling 
lips. 

"  None,"  he  replied  ;  "  my  honor  is  too  sorely 
wounded,  and  for  that  the  Marshal  de  Retz  shall  be 
held  to  strict  account.  He  cannot  long  escape  pun 
ishment  at  my  hands.  One  object  and  one  interest 
remains  to  me  in  life,  —  revenge." 

"If  you  blame  him,  can  you  not  pity  and  excuse 
me?" 

"No;  for  by  appeal  to  the  protection  of  the  king 
or  the  church,  you  could  have  escaped  his  power.  He 


262  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

has  many  enemies  who  have  long  been  seeking  a  pre 
text  for  his  destruction." 

"How  could  I,  an  ignorant  and  defenseless  girl, 
know  that?" 

"You  could  have  trusted  your  secret  to  me,  to  De 
Metz,  to  any  brave  man  who  would  have  undertaken 
your  defense." 

"  But  Father  Ambrose  counselled  patience,  and  the 
Abbess  Hilda  assured  me  that  I  was  doing  the  will 
of  God  in  imitating  my  sister's  life  and  mission." 

"  Lies  which  your  conscience  should  have  taught  you 
to  discredit." 

"But  if  I  had  told  the  truth,  you  would  have  with 
drawn  your  love  and  admiration  from  me,  hating  me 
then  as  you  do  now  for  the  imposture." 

"I  know  not,"  he  answered  musingly.  "If  you 
had  told  me  that  night  at  Arlon  I  should  have  left 
you  in  horror,  for  then  I  loved  you  as  one  worships 
a  saint;  but  if  you  had  trusted  me  with  your  secret 
when  first  I  met  you  in  Marville,  I  am  not  sure 
that  my  heart  was  so  deeply  engaged  but  that  I  should 
have  been  willing  to  relinquish  my  pleasing  delusion 
with  a  passing  regret,  such  as  we  give  to  the  fading 
visions  of  youth,  and  I  might  have  found  interest  in 
championing  your  cause  against  the  marshal,  and  in 
pursuing  him,  as  I  shall  now,  with  discovery  and 
destruction." 


A    PROMISE.  263 

"  But  you  would  never  have  loved  and  wedded  me 
as  my  true  self,"  she  urged. 

"I  should  at  least  have  been  your  friend,"  he 
answered. 

"That  would  not  have  sufficed  to  compensate  for 
what  I  should  have  lost,"  she  said.  "  It  was  my 
love  for  you  that  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  put 
all  to  the  test,  as  many  a  time  my  conscience  prompted 
me  to  do.  You  cannot  guess  the  depth  of  my  love, 
since  yours  fails  at  the  first  strain  put  upon  it.  No 
crime  that  you  could  commit  could  turn  my  heart 
from  you.  It  will  be  yours  while  life  and  thought 
remain  to  me." 

Her  tone  grew  in  dignity  with  the  resignation  of 
despair;  and  Robert's  mood  softened  from  implacable 
resentment  to  a  compassionate  regret.  Once  having 
yielded  to  the  promptings  of  sympathy,  he  began  to 
realize  the  situation  from  a  new  point  of  view,  —  that 
of  the  loving  woman  with  whom  affection  counts  for 
more  than  duty  or  ease  of  conscience.  Looking  back 
over  his  past  life,  he  wondered  whether  he  had  the 
right  to  fling  a  stone  at  her  for  this.  Before  his 
nature  had  been  touched  and  exalted  by  devotion 
to  the  inspiring  character  of  the  Maid  of  France,  he 
had  been  the  slave  of  a  consuming  passion  whose  wreck 
had  left  the  whole  world  void ;  and  on  the  day  of  his 
visit  to  Domre'my,  destiny  had  held  his  future  bal- 


264  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

anced  evenly  between  the  paths  of  righteousness  and 
the  by-ways  of  profligacy.  The  hand  of  the  Pucelle 
had  turned  the  scale.  Grief  for  the  loss  of  the  bright 
image  that  had  filled  his  heart,  and  for  the  fading  of 
the  dream  that  had  been  a  glory  and  a  joy,  now  that 
the  first  shock  of  agonized  dismay  was  over,  became 
a  softer  and  more  tender  melancholy;  and  he  realized 
that  he  had  never  possessed  in  other  than  a  visionary 
form  the  love  and  companionship  of  Jeanne  of  France. 

He  recalled  a  hundred  vexing  suspicions,  unsub 
stantial  as  air,  but  tending  to  the  undermining  of 
his  belief  in  her.  In  place  of  the  transcendent  spirit 
uality  he  had  looked  for,  he  had  recognized  an  earthly 
and  seductive  charm  to  which  lie  had  yielded  half 
unwillingly  as  to  a  siren's  song.  He  had  been  con 
scious  of  a  baffling  mystery  and  reserve,  and  a  lack 
of  confidence  and  sympathy,  which  defeated  his  dearest 
wishes.  The  vague  unrest  which  clouded  his  happiness 
had  been  forgotten  only  when  he  had  learned  to  accept 
a  lower,  more  commonplace  contentment  than  that 
which  he  had  dreamed  of. 

He  sighed,  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand. 
"  My  disappointment  is  that  of  a  man  who  grasps 
at  a  bubble,  and  laments  that  it  melts  at  a  touch," 
he  said.  "  I  have  been  an  easy  dupe,  and  have  myself 
to  blame  for  .the  grief  that  has  fallen  upon  me.  Let  us 
part  as  friends,  Catherine  Dare,  burdened  by  a  com- 


A    PROMISE.  265 

mon  weight  of  woe,  which  neither  can  help  the  other 
to  endure.  My  lot,  indeed,  is  happier  than  yours ;  for 
a  man  has  the  world  before  him,  and,  having  marred 
his  life,  may  reconstruct  it  as  he  will.  I  shall  in  time 
perhaps  bury  in  oblivion  the  gnawing  sorrow  which 
is  more  severe  than  that  which  I  once  suffered  by 
a  woman's  betrayal,  only  because  in  this  case  I  believed 
my  seducer  to  be  a  saint,  while  in  the  other  instance 
I  knew  her  to  be  a  beautiful  demon." 

"Why  must  you  cast  me  off,  if  you  have  any  kind 
ness  for  me?  "  she  sobbed,  feeling  a  new  pang  of  jealous 
misery  at  his  words,  and  bewildered  by  the  change 
in  his  mood,  whose  pensive  regret  brought  him  no 
nearer  to  her  than  his  anger  had  done.  "  Can  you  not 
acknowledge  me  to  be  your  wife,  and  the  mother  of 
your  children  ?  Am  I  not  worthy  to  be  their  devoted 
nurse,  and  your  humble  slave?" 

A  deep  frown  appeared  between  his  brows.  "It  is 
the  thought  of  what  this  dishonor  means  to  them  that 
maddens  me,"  he  replied. 

Claude  rose  to  her  feet,  and  stood  with  her  hands 
clasped  tightly  together,  and  her  frame  nerved  for 
one  last  appeal. 

"  Listen,  Robert,"  she  said.  "  If  my  children  live  to 
know  their  mother  as  one  whose  deeds  have  won  her 
world-wide  fame ;  if  all  praise  me  as  the  worthy  suc 
cessor  to  my  sister  Jeanne ;  if  the  story  of  my  life 


2GG  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

from  this  day  forth  is  only  the  continuation  of  her 
history ;  if  I  am  as  religious,  as  devoted,  as  successful 
in  the  wars,  —  will  you  promise  to  receive  me  again  as 
your  wife  and  the  worthy  mother  o.f  your  children?*' 

The  genuineness  of  her  emotion  touched  him;  and  he 
looked  witli  pity  at  her  grief-stricken  face,  illuminated 
for  the  moment  by  a  transfiguring  hope. 

"  On  that  condition,  I  promise  it,"  he  said,  with 
a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice  which  Claude  did  not 
detect;  for,  grasping  at  this  slight  consolation,  she  flung 
herself  before  him,  and  kissed  his  hands,  wetting  them 
with  tears. 

Robert  withdrew  himself  with  an  involuntary  move 
ment. 

"  I  cannot  yet  forget  what  you  have  been  in  my 
thought  of  you.  I  cannot  let  you  kneel  to  me,"  he 
said.  "  Moreover,  I  spoke  in  bitter  jest.  It  is  not 
possible  for  you  to  fulfil  this  condition ;  and  no  penance 
to  which  I  could  condemn  you  could  be  worse  than 
the  constant  struggle  and  the  constant  failure,  the 
comparison  of  guilt  with,  perfection,  and  the  futile 
pursuit  of  an  ever-deferred  hope.  Better  to  enter 
a  convent,  where  no  shame  and  reproach  can  follow 
you,  and  where  the  duties  set  you  day  by  day  may 
teach  you  peace." 

"  Peace  without  you  and  my  children  !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  That  can  only  come  to  me  when  my 


A    PROMISE.  267 

heart  is  still  beneath  its  shroud.  I  will  accept  every 
hard  condition  in  order  to  show  you  that  my  love 
is  strong  enough  to  bear  any  test.  In  the  convent  I 
would  soon  become  to  you  a  faded  dream,  and  you 
would  find  some  other  woman,  some  '  beautiful  demon,' 
with  whom  to  console  yourself ;  but  I  swear  to  you, 
Robert  Des  Armoises,  that  as  long  as  I  live  you  shall 
keep  me  in  your  memory.  In  spite  of  yourself  you 
shall  hear  my  name  and  the  story  of  my  deeds,  whether 
they  lead  to  success  or  failure,  whether  I  conquer 
in  the  army,  or,  like  Jeanne,  suffer  at  the  stake ; 
and  every  time  you  hear  you  will  remember  that  I 
was  once  your  wife,  and  that  I  have  your  promise 
to  receive  me  again  as  such  on  the  condition  you  have 
made  ;  and  you  will  be  sure  that  it  is  my  love  for  you, 
and  my  faith  in  your  promise,  which  make  the  struggle 
possible  ;  and  some  day  I  will  come  to  you  in  triumph, 
and  claim  your  love,  and  you  will  give  it  to  me." 

She  ended  in  tears,  and  remained  silent,  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  hands.  Robert  sighed,  as  he  rose 
from  his  place  to  extinguish  the  candle  that  flickered 
in  its  socket.  The  light  of  dawn  stole  in  at  the  win 
dow,  and  the  birds  in  the  tree-tops  were  saluting  it 
with  songs  which  took  no  account  of  the  havoc  wrought 
by  the  storm  in  their  devastated  nests.  A  new  day 
had  come,  and  new  nests  might  be  built,  while  the 
sunlight  was  argument  enough  for  joy. 


268  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  To-day  I  shall  arrange  that  the  children  return 
with  your  mother  to  Domre'iny,"  said  Robert,  with 
averted  eyes. 

Claude  started,  and  pressed  her  hand  upon  her 
heart.  "And  to-day  I  must  set  out  for  Rome,"  she 
said. 

"  You  will  not  go  alone  ?  " 

"  Father  Ambrose  will  accompany  me.  I  must 
receive  the  absolution  of  the  Pope  for  my  sin  in 
raising  my  hand  against  my  mother  —  a  sin  of  impa 
tience  which  she  readily  forgave,  but  which  must 
be  specially  atoned  for  before  I  can  hope  for  God's 
blessing  on  my  work,  so  Father  Ambrose  says." 

"  It  is  all  folly  and  delusion,"  exclaimed  Robert 
impatiently.  "  I  should  be  better  pleased  to  see  you 
turn  with  disgust  from  the  old  path  of  lying  trickery, 
which  has  ended  in  ruin,  and  escape  forever  from  the 
guidance  of  that  man  who  has  been  your  evil  genius. 
Have  you  become  so  wedded  to  a  lie  that  you  can 
no  longer  see  the  value  of  truth  as  a  support  to  the 
soul  ?  If  you  still  continue  in  deception,  all  must 
result  for  you  in  despair." 

"  Since  you  forsake  me,  he  is  my  only  friend,"  she 
replied.  "  Moreover,  he  is  a  holy  man  and  full  of 
the  love  of  God,  though  you  misjudge  him  and 
doubt  his  sincerity.  If  I  do  as  he  urges,  I  will  be  a 
saint,  and  give  the  rest  of  my  life  to  prayer  and 


A   PROMISE.  269 

penance.  He  tells  me  that  earthly  love  henceforth 
is  sin,  and  that  I  must  cast  your  image  forever  from 
my  heart." 

"In  that  he  counsels  well,"  answered  Robert 
gravely ;  "  for  there  is  no  greater  grief  than  a  delu 
sive  hope.  It  would  be  best  for  you  to  realize  that 
all  is  at  an  end  between  us." 

"  I  have  your  promise ! "  she  cried,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  "  You  cannot  deny  it ;  and  I  shall  hold 
you  to  it." 

Before  the  day  ended,  change  had  set  its  mark 
upon  the  house  of  Des  Armoises,  which  stood  hence 
forth  deserted  and  unvisited,  except  by  the  moving 
shadow  of  the  church-spire,  which  traced  the  hours 
upon  it,  like  the  index  of  an  enormous  dial.  Early 
in  the  morning  two  children,  in  the  arms  of  a  nurse 
and  accompanied  by  their  grandmother,  set  out  on 
the  return  journey  by  boat  to  Toul.  Later  in  the 
day  two  gray-robed  pilgrims  with  scrip  and  staff 
left  the  Moselle  gate  to  seek  with  weary  steps  the 
seat  on  earth  of  that  heavenly  power  which  alone 
can  loose  the  bonds  of  sin,  and  re-create  in  the  soul 
the  image  of  a  divine  innocence. 

Last  of  all,  the  Sire  Des  Armoises  departed  from 
the  home  of  his  ancestors,  leaving  it  empty  of  all 
but  the  memory  of  what  had  been;  and  as  he  rode 


270  THE    SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

from  its  door,  he  turned  his  back  forever  upon  his 
youth,  that  paradise  of  bright  illusions,  glorious 
hopes,  and  lofty  aspirations,  which  fades  to  leave 
the  awakened  soul  in  conscious  nakedness  and  deso 
lation. 


THE   SIENA   MANUSCRIPT.  271 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  SIENA  MANUSCRIPT. 

N  the  library  of  the  Carmelite  convent 
at  Siena,  there  was  long  preserved 
a  manuscript  written  in  French,  and 
therefore  not  intelligible  to  many  of 
the  brothers,  to  which  fact,  it  may 
be,  it  owed  its  preservation  among  the  lives  of  saints 
and  copies  of  the  Fathers  in  Greek  and  Latin,  remain 
ing  unread  and  untranslated,  until  one  day  a  learned 
antiquarian  disinterred  it,  and  finding  it  valuable  as 
a  historical  document,  persuaded  the  prior  to  part 
with  it  for  a  good  price.  He  was  the  more  willing 
to  do  this,  since  the  tone  of  its  contents,  when 
they  were  divulged  to  him,  vexed  his  orthodox 
soul,  and  led  him  to  doubt  whether  the  friar  of 
Lorraine,  who  composed  it,  and  who  had  died  in  the 
odor  of  sanctity,  should  not  be  set  down  as  a  secret 
heretic  whose  bones  should  not  be  permitted  to  rest 
in  holy  ground. 

The   book   bore   the   title   My    Confession,  and  was 
a  record  of   the  reminiscences  of  a  friar,  who  asked 


272  THE    SHIELD    OP    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  prayers  of  all  to  whom  his  writing  should  come, 
as  a  sinner,  conscious  of  a  weight  of  guilt  which 
even  the  absolution  of  the  Pope  had  not  been  able 
to  remove.  It  was  this  declaration  which  the  prior 
considered  to  savor  of  heresy.  The  sin  which  ap 
peared  most  heinous  among  those  confessed  by  the 
writer  was  the  desecration  of  the  confessional,  by 
making  it  the  medium  of  a  lying  utterance,  designed 
to  shield  a  friend  from  harm ;  and  the  friar,  with 
endless  self-reproaches,  styled  himself  an  Ananias  of 
blacker  guilt  than  he  who  was  stricken  dead  for  a 
lie.  It  was  this  sin  of  deception  for  which  the  Pope 
had  given  full  absolution ;  yet  the  monk  complained 
that  the  guilt  of  it  had  never  ceased  to  vex  him,  the 
more  so  that  at  the  close  of  his  life  he  became  aware 
that  the  unsuspected  motive  of  his  actions  was  not 
as  he  had  believed  a  heavenly  inspiration,  but  earthly 
love  for  a  woman  whose  safety  and  well-being  had 
been  dearer  to  him  than  the  salvation  of  his  soul. 
As  his  relations  with  this  woman  were  evidently 
those  of  a  Platonic  friendship,  disturbed  by  nothing 
of  a  less  spiritual  nature  than  the  affection  of  Dante 
for  his  Beatrice,  the  prior,  whose  views  on  these 
matters  partook  of  the  laxity  of  his  life,  was  not 
greatly  shocked  by  this  part  of  the  confession ;  but 
for  the  sake  of  conventual  discipline,  which  must  be 
maintained  at  least  in  the  outward  appearance,  he 


THE   SIENA    MANUSCRIPT.  273 

gave  the  purchaser  of  the  manuscript  to  understand 
that  he  parted  from  it  willingly  as  .from  an  accursed 
thing,  not,  therefore,  without  value  for  its  literary 
merits,  and  the  singular  facts  which  it  related  con 
cerning  the  false  Jeanne  Dare. 

A  fragmentary  copy  of  this  manuscript  fell  into 
the  hands  of  a  bitter  enemy  of  France,  wlio  gladly 
availed  himself  of  the  monk's  confession  of  love  for 
the  pretender  to  corroborate  calumnious  charges 
drawn  from  other  sources,  and  to  enable  him  to  add 
to  the  injurious  epithets  which  he,  with  the  fine 
talent  for  invective  displayed  by  men  of  the  church, 
showered  upon  the  head  of  one  who  had  formerly 
incurred  the  suspicion  of  the  Inquisition. 

The  following  extract  from  the  friar's  confession 
may  here  be  given  :  — 

"  When  we  were  come  to  the  palace  of  the  Pope,  the  Holy 
Father  received  Jeanne  du  Lys  with  little  delay,  she  being  in 
troduced  by  the  Bishop  of  Padua,  who  had  further  secured  for 
us  the  favor  of  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  bedchamber  high  in 
the  Pope's  favor.  All  being  withdrawn  from  about  us,  at  the  com 
mand  of  the  Pontiff,  we  threw  ourselves  on  our  knees  and  kissed 
his  feet,  confessing  by  turns  the  guilt  for  which  we  desired  ab 
solution  ;  namely,  the  sin  of  Jeanne  du  Lys  in  raising  her  hand 
against  her  mother,  and  my  own  grievous  fault  in  the  abuse  of 
the  confessional,  and  further  the  sin  of  both  in  continuing  the 
deception  whereby  it  was  commonly  believed  that  the  Jeanne 
Dare  who  had  taken  Orleans  was  come  in  person  to  offer  to 
fight  for  the  cause  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  when  in  reality  it  was 


274  THE  SHIELD    OF  THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Catherine  Jeanne  Dare  or  du  Lys,  her  sister,  who  being  her  very 
image  proposed  to  do  in  her  name  deeds  which  should  serve  better 
than  the  true  Jeanne's  the  cause  of  Holy  Church,  and  assist  in 
freeing  the  Pope  from  the  persecutions  of  his  enemies. 

"After  hearing  our  confession  and  the  purpose  of  our  com 
ing,  his  Holiness  granted  to  both  of  us  full  and  free  absolution 
for  our  sins,  especially  for  any  sin  against  the  truth  which  we 
had  committed  or  should  commit,  in  the  cause  of  Holy  Church 
and  the  defense  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  by  causing  the  new 
Pucelle  to  be  regarded  as  her  sister  bearing  the  same  name, 
which  would  give  the  soldiers  greater  confidence  in  her  as  their 
leader,  and  conduce  to  the  success  of  her  endeavor. 

"  Now  that  the  object  of  our  weary  pilgrimage  was  fulfilled, 
peace  should  have  visited  our  souls  ;  but  that  it  did  not  I  at 
tribute  to  the  secret  guilt  of  the  unacknowledged  motive  that 
moved  us,  which  was  not  the  single-hearted  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  his  Holiness  that  we  professed,  but  rather  in  my  case 
an  affection  for  Jeanne  du  Lys  so  great  that  I  could  not  en 
dure  to  have  her  discredited  by  her  enemies ;  and  with  her 
such  a  passionate  affection  for  her  husband  who  had  cast  her 
off,  that  she  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  regain  him. 

"  Thus  were  our  minds  unvisited  by  the  consolations  accorded 
to  the  true  penitent. 

"  In  battle  against  the  Duke  of  Milan,  Jeanne  du  Lys  rode 
at  the  head  of  a  troop  of  soldiers  taken  from  the  command  of 
the  governor  of  Home,  and  a  band  of  stipendiaries  in  the  Pope's 
pay.  She  rode  armed  in  complete  mail,  on  a  white  charger, 
and  carried  a  short  sword  and  a  small  battle-axe.  I  remained 
in  her  tent  engaged  in  prayer  for  her  safety  ;  not,  sinner  that 
I  was,  with  any  wish  for  the  success  of  the  armies  of  Pope 
Eugene  IV.,  but  with  the  anxious  heart  of  one  who  beholds  his 
dearest  friend  adventured  in  an  unusual  and  desperate  under 
taking.  Without  experience  of  war,  and  without  the  aid  of  the 
saintly  voices  that  lent  dauntless  courage  to  the  true  Jeanne, 
how  could  the  pretender  escape  destruction  ? 


THE   SIENA  MANUSCRIPT.  275 

"  She  returned  in  triumph,  greeted  by  the  acclamations  of 
the  soldiers,  who  saw  the  hand  of  God  in  the  destruction  of 
her  enemies.  AVhen  her  squire  had  unarmed  her  and  she  had 
taken  refreshment,  she  begged  that  she  might  be  left  with  me 
to  make  confession  and  receive  absolution  for  homicide  com 
mitted  in  battle  ;  and  when  we  were  alone  she  fell  half -faint 
ing  with  distress  at  my  feet.  '  I  am  lost,  Ambrose,'  she  said. 
'  My  husband  can  never  again  take  my  hand,  for  it  is  stained 
with  blood ; '  and  with  tears  and  groans  she  proceeded  to  relate 
how  in  the  thick  of  battle,  and  in  terror  for  her  life,  not 
knowing  where  to  turn  or  how  to  conduct  herself,  she  drew 
her  sword  in  defense  against  the  enemy  who  pressed  close  upon 
her,  and  before  she  knew  what  had  chanced,  she  had  laid  two 
of  the  foremost  dead  at  her  feet.  She  could  not  forget  the 
sight  of  the  welling  blood,  the  distorted  faces,  and  the  agony 
of  the  dying ;  and  she  believed  that  the  curse  of  Cain  must 
henceforth  rest  upon  her.  Being  attacked  by  a  low  fever 
which  resulted  from  her  distress  of  mind,  she  obtained  permis 
sion  from  the  Pope  to  return  to  France,  and  carry  on  the  war 
against  the  English,  to  which  she  was  urged  by  frequent  dis 
patches  from  the  Marshal  de  Retz.  In  command  of  the  soldiers 
of  the  marshal  she  greatly  distinguished  herself  in  the  war  on 
the  borders  of  Poitou  and  Guyenne,  and  was  everywhere  re 
ceived  with  acclaim  and  reverence ;  until  the  fatal  time  arrived 
when  this  evil  man,  emboldened  by  success  and  blind  to  his 
danger,  agreed  to  put  everything  to  the  test,  and  to  subject  the 
pretender  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  people  of  Orleans,  and  even  to 
a  meeting  with  the  king.  The  result  to  her  was  shame  and 
ruin ;  to  me,  grief  and  woe.  Pray  for  me,  brothers,  who  read 
this  confession ;  for  as  one  awakes  to  knowledge  of  an  unseen 
gulf  beneath  his  feet,  so  I  learned  at  last  my  weakness,  hitherto 
concealed  and  unsuspected.  By  the  lightening-stroke  of  God's 
revelation,  it  was  shown  me  that  I  had  kept  a  hopeless  love  for 
the  woman  hidden  beneath  my  priestly  interest  in  the  penitent. 
My  counsels  had  lead  her  astray;  and  in  abetting  the  impos- 


276  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-L1S. 

ture  I  was  guilty,  not  only  of  all  that  my  conscience  had  ad 
mitted,  but  also  of  a  satisfaction  in  the  sinful  tie  that  bound 
us  each  to  the  other  in  a  common  conspiracy  against  the  truth. 
Pity  me,  my  brothers,  and  beseech  God's  mercy  upon  me ;  and 
let  each  of  you  make  the  prayer  of  the  Psalmist  his  own : 
Lord,  cleanse  thou  me  from  my  secret  faults." 


THE   LADY    OF    BEAUTE.  277 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  LADY  OF  BEAUTE. 


iGNES  SOREL,  in  the  enjoyment  of  sat 
isfied  ambitions  and  gratified  vanity, 
was  conscious  of  a  secret  vexation 
which  clouded  her  serenity.  She  rec 
ognized  a  rival  whose  political  in 
fluence  threatened  to  eclipse  her  own ;  although  her 
position  at  court  was  so  secure  that  she  could  afford 
an  ostentatious  humility,  and  a  generous  indifference 
to  the  oscillations  of  the  royal  favor,  which  returned 
as  constantly  to  her  as  the  needle  to  the  pole.  Ambi 
tion,  however,  rather  than  any  softer  passion,  was  a 
ruling  motive  with  the  gentle  Agnes,  whose  demure 
reserve  hid  an  inflexible  determination ;  and  she  was 
troubled  by  the  fear  that  in  the  history  of  the  future, 
in  which  she  hoped  to  gain  an  honorable  place  among 
the  statesmen  of  France,  her  fame  would  be  over 
shadowed  by  the  glory  of  Jeanne  Dare,  whose  hold 
upon  the  people  had  never  been  so  apparent  as  now, 
when  Orleans  had  received  her  with  unbounded  rever 
ence  and  delight. 


278  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

The  royal  mail  had  brought  the  budget  of  dis 
patches  from  Orleans,  describing  in  detail  the  marvel 
lous  Mystery  which  had  been  enacted  in  honor  of 
her  long-delayed  reappearance  in  the  city  of  her  affec 
tion.  She  had  come  from  the  borders  of  Guyenne 
and  Poitou  in  company  with  the  Marshal  de  Retz, 
with  whom  she  had  been  associated  there  in  her  cam 
paign  against  the  English,  leaving  the  further  con 
duct  of  hostilities  in  the  hands  of  a  lieutenant  of 
the  marshal ;  and  the  people  of  Orleans,  recalling  the 
fact  that  De  Retz  had  ridden  beside  the  Maid  on 
her  first  triumphant  entry  into  the  city  when  she  had 
appeared  as  God's  angel  sent  to  the  relief  of  its  des 
perate  need,  saw  in  the  conjunction  of  the  powerful 
nobleman  and  their  adored  heroine  cause  for  enthusi 
astic  rejoicing.  Rich  gifts  were  voted  to  the  Pucelle, 
processions  and  pageants  were  made  for  her  recep 
tion  ;  but  it  remained  for  the  marshal  to  devise  a 
festival  so  superb  as  to  be  forever  memorable. 

In  the  public  square,  where  a  fountain  of  hippo- 
eras  spouted  day  and  night,  and  rich  feasts  were 
hourly  spread,  there  was  enacted  a  three  days'  per 
formance  of  the  Famous  Mysteries  representing  the 
Siege  of  Orleans,  in  which  countless  actors,  trained 
by  long  practice,  reviewed  the  events  of  the  famous 
siege  in  the  order  of  their  occurrence.  The  French 
and  English  fought  hand  to  hand  in  the  intrench- 


THE   LADY   OF   BEAUTE.  279 

merits;  one  by  one  the  fortifications  of  the  enemy 
were  overthrown ;  victory  followed  the  standard  of 
the  Maid  ;  angels  with  shining  wings,  unobserved  by 
the  combatants,  mingled  with  the  defenders  of  the 
city,  directing  all  to  their  good;  while  high  aloft  in 
a  Paradise,  represented  by  an  upper  stage  blazing 
with  gold  and  illuminated  with  wonderful  colored 
lights,  holy  personages  were  seen,  and  voices  sounded 
to  encourage  the  heroine  in  her  work :  Fille  De  va,  va, 
va ;  je  serai  a  ton  aide. 

Choruses  of  angels  sang  triumphant  pseans,  when 
on  the  third  day  of  the  Mystery  the  final  overthrow 
of  the  English  was  represented  to  the  delight  of  the 
spectators.  The  Pucelle  herself,  who  had  watched 
the  show  from  a  pavilion  hung  with  cloth-of-gold, 
where  she  sat  in  company  with  the  marshal  and  the 
dignitaries  of  Orleans,  now  mounted  her  war-horse, 
and  rode  at  the  head  of  the  mimic  saviours  of  the 
city  three  times  round  its  walls ;  while  the  people, 
moved  to  tears  by  this  visible  repetition  of  the  great 
est  miracle  of  modern  times,  fell  upon  their  knees 
in  her  path,  and  kissed  her  feet  and  the  housings  of 
her  charger,  and  blessed  God  for  his  mercy.  The 
festivities  of  the  week,  it  was  said,  cost  the  mar 
shal  eighty  thousand  crowns ;  but  his  generosity  to 
the  Pucelle  won  him  a  popularity  he  had  never 
before  enjoyed,  and  which  greatly  disconcerted  the 
malevolent  designs  of  his  enemies. 


280  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

The  fair  Agnes  one  day  sat  musing  in  the  midst 
of  a  chattering  group  of  gay  damsels  who  were  intent 
on  the  preparations  for  a  series  of  fetes  to  be  given 
the  following  week  in  the  castle  of  Loches.  Her 
revery  was  respected  in  so  far  that  no  one  openly 
addressed  her ;  though  many  sly  glances  and  covert 
innuendoes  were  directed  towards  her,  most  of  which 
she  allowed  to  pass  unnoticed.  Suddenly  her  atten 
tion  became  alert;  and  without  raising  her  eyes  or 
changing  her  attitude,  she  listened  eagerly. 

"  The  knight  of  the  lily  will  not  be  there,  I  wager," 
said  one,  "  unless  we  can  persuade  the  Pucelle  to 
come  in  person  from  Orleans  to  attend  our  fete ; 
which  would  seem  but  a  poor  thing  to  her  after  the 
magnificence  she  has  enjoyed  there  ;  greater,  they  say, 
than  was  displayed  in  honor  of  the  king's  entrance 
into  Paris." 

"  I  once  asked  this  same  melancholy  knight,"  re 
joined  a  companion,  "  why,  when  he  is  so  ardent  an 
admirer  of  the  Pucelle,  he  should  make  no  endeavor 
to  meet  her  and  win  her  favor.  He  replied  that  he 
worshipped  a  spirit,  and  not  an  earthly  being ;  nor 
would  he  dare  to  aspire  so  high  as  to  hope  for  the 
love  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans." 

"  He  might  aspire  even  higher,  if  he  had  daring 
equal  to  his  merits,"  thought  Agnes,  while  a  blush 
mounted  to  her  forehead.  She  rose,  and  quickly  left 
the  room. 


THE   LADY   OF   BEAUTE.  281 

One  gay  damsel  sharply  nudged  the  other  with  her 
elbow. 

"  I  have  it  on  the  word  of  the  Sire  de  Beuil  that 
the  lady  of  the  lamb  made  advances  to  the  knight 
of  the  lily,  and  was  repulsed,"  she  whispered. 

"  What  could  one  expect  from  a  monkish  vision 
ary,  who  spends  his  days  in  meditation  and  his  nights 
in  prayer  ?  "  was  the  answer. 

Charles  of  Valois  was  engaged  in  an  interesting 
game  of  dice  with  his  brother-in-law,  the  Prince  of 
Anjou,  when  a  perfumed  note  was  handed  to  him, 
sealed  with  the  device  of  a  lamb.  Charles  d'Anjou 
discreetly  withdrew  his  eyes  while  his  royal  brother 
made  haste  to  master  its  contents,  which,  although  in 
an  unfamiliar  cipher,  may  be  thus  translated :  — 

"  Are  you  aware  that  the  so-called  Jeanne  Dare,  or  du  Lis,  or 
Des  Armoises,  the  Pucelle,  has  been  greeted  with  more  honor 
in  Orleans  than  you  in  Paris ;  and  that  her  renown  threatens 
to  eclipse  your  own?  If  you  love  me,  order  her  immediate  at 
tendance  at  court,  where,  if  she  be  an  impostor,  as  some  still 
maintain,  I  will  soon  find  means  to  discover  the  fact.  We  have 
too  long  delayed  in  taking  a  decided  course  either  to  sanction  or 
discredit  her  claims." 

Later  in  the  same  day  the  lady  Agnes  sent  an  in 
vitation  to  the  young  nobleman  who  went  by  the 
name  of  Sire  Roger  d'Arblay,  a  name  which  every  one 
judged  to  be  assumed,  as  was  also  his  coat  of  arms,  a 


282  THE   SHIELD   OP   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

shield  or ,  bearing  a  single  lily  gules,  with  the  crest,  a 
two-handled  sword,  and  the  device,  /  bide  my  time. 

The  heralds  of  the  court  were  greatly  vexed  by 
their  inability  to  penetrate  the  disguise  ;  and  the 
ladies,  while  interested  in  the  mystery  that  surrounded 
him,  and  enamoured  of  his  handsome  face,  were  dis 
pleased  by  his  insensibility  to  their  charms,  and  the 
eccentricity  of  his  behavior.  He  declared  himself  to 
be  the  knight  of  the  Pucelle,  dwelling  in  the  world 
as  if  it  were  a  hermitage,  and  counting  all  its  joys 
but  phantom  allurements  which  had  no  charm  for 
his  consecrated  spirit.  It  was  said  that  he  had  passed 
whole  nights  upon  his  knees  before  the  altar  of  the 
church  of  St.  Catherine  of  Fierbois,  and  that  he  had 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  every  place  in  the  itinerary  of 
the  Pucelle,  as  one  might  visit  the  stations  of  the 
Cross.  Yet  so  shy  was  his  nature,  and  so  unpractical 
his  fantastic  mania,  that  he  had  never  once,  as  he 
acknowledged,  met  the  Pucelle  face  to  face.  He 
made  no  offer  of  his  sword  to  her  command  when 
she  undertook  the  siege  of  Mans  with  the  troops  of 
the  Marshal  de  Retz ;  he  did  not  visit  Orleans  when 
people  for  leagues  around  had  crowded  its  streets  to 
witness  her  re-entrance  and  the  magnificent  festivities 
which  celebrated  it. 

Agnes  Sorel,  to  whom  he  had  been  commended  by 
the  bishop  of  Nantes,  had  introduced  him  at  court, 


THE   LADY    OF   BEAUTE.  283 

and  looked  for  his  gratitude  and  admiration  as  her 
due  reward.  She  was  much  chagrined  to  find  that 
his  indifference  was  genuine,  and  not  to  be  over 
come.  Piqued  by  his  disdain,  she  attempted  with 
the  instinct  of  coquetry  to  bring  him  to  her  feet, 
finding  it  a  design  of  more  serious  consequence  than 
she  had  at  first  intended.  Her  volatile  fancy,  capri 
cious  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  was  impressed  by  a  genu 
ine  admiration  for  a  nature  so  different  from  her  own 
as  to  be  capable  of  an  ideal  enthusiasm. 

Little  by  little  she  found  herself  involved  in  the 
toils  which  she  had  prepared  for  another ;  and  though 
she  would  not  acknowledge  to  herself  that  the  satis 
faction  of  her  whim  was  more  than  a  summer  day's 
pastime,  it  became,  for  the  time  at  least,  an  engross 
ing  purpose. 

The  invitation  which  summoned  the  disguised  knight 
to  a  conference  with  the  chief  lady  of  the  court  was 
not  unwelcome  to  him,  since  for  reasons  of  his  own 
he  was  anxious  to  secure  her  powerful  co-operation. 
I^e  met  her  in  the  garden,  where  she  awaited  him 
in  a  retired  spot  known  to  be  secure  from  intrusion, 
being  reserved  for  the  use  of  Queen  Marie  and  the 
dowager-queen  of  Sicily,  and  such  of  their  circle  as 
they  chose  to  make  free  of  it. 

Des  Armoises,  whom  the  reader  may  know  by  the 
name  which  he  had  forever  discarded,  found  the  lady 


THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUB-DE-LIS. 

of  Beaute*  pacing  up  and  down  a  sequestered  alley, 
with  an  attendant  whom  she  immediately  dismissed, 
allowing  the  young  man  to  take  his  place  at  her  side. 
Her  countenance  was  grave  and  serene,  though  her 
color  came  and  went  as  if  she  were  secretly  agi 
tated. 

"I  wish  to  consult  you,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "upon 
an  affair  of  such  consequence  that  I  have  not  breathed 
it  to  a  living  soul.  Hoping  that  I  may  trust  your 
friendship  for  me,"  —  Des  Armoises  took  no  advantage 
of  the  pause  she  offered  here,  and  she  proceeded  in 
vexation,  — "  or,  at  least,  your  honor  to  keep  sacred 
the  confidence  I  give  you,"  —  here  he  made  a  motion 
of  assent,  —  "I  have  summoned  you  to  this  interview, 
not  only  as  a  mark  of  my  regard,  —  insensible  ingrate," 
she  added  inwardly,  —  "  but  also  out  of  consideration 
for  your  declared  passion  for  the  Pucelle." 

"  That  is  not  the  word  to  describe  the  spiritualized 
adoration  which  I  have  kept  as  the  only  affection  in 
a  heart  of  stone,"  he  replied. 

Agnes  sighed  softly.  "It  is  the  first  time  that  I 
have  heard  you  acknowledge  that  of  which  I  was 
only  too  conscious,"  she  said.  "Pray  tell  me,  messire, 
how  it  can  chance  that  beneath  so  friendly  an  exterior 
you  can  carry  so  hard  a  heart." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  answered  quickly.  "  Betrayed 
by  a  beloved  wife,  I  placed  all  my  affection  upon  the 


THE   LADY   OF   BEAUTE.  285 

children  she  had  left  me ;  and  when  I  received  the 
news  of  their  sudden  death  by  drowning,  I  became 
a  desperate  man.  Journeying  from  Lorraine  to  Brit 
tany  in  pursuit  of  the  only  object  in  life  remaining  to 
me,  revenge,  —  I  passed  the  church  of  St.  Catherine  at 
Fierbois ;  and  recollecting  that  the  Pucelle  had  once 
visited  it  with  a  miraculous  result,  I  entered  it  and 
by  chance  fell  asleep  there.  I  had  a  vision  in  my 
slumber  in  which  it  appeared  to  me  that  a  gracious 
being  offered  me  an  immortal  love  on  condition  that 
I  should  keep  my  heart  free  from  earthly  passion. 
The  atmosphere  she  breathed  was  that  of  lilies  intoxi 
cating  in  their  sweetness  ;  and  the  joy  of  the  serene 
light  of  Paradise  that  shone  about  her  remained  with 
me  when  I  woke.  It  seemed  that  this  beautiful  vision 
had  the  face  and  form  of  the  Pucelle,  and  that  night 
upon  my  knees  before  the  altar,  I  devoted  my  heart 
and  life  to  her  service,  vowing  to  live  henceforth  as 
free  as  Sir  Galahad  from  snares  of  love." 

The  lady  of  Beaute"  frowned,  and  bit  her  lip.  "  You 
are  devising  a  pretty  fable  with  a  moral  concealed  in 
it,  as  nauseous  drugs  are  given  disguised  in  jelly,"  she 
said  with  a  shrill  laugh.  "But  I  assure  you  that 
vanity  deceives  you  if  you  think  that  I  am  in  need 
of  its  teaching." 

"  Heaven  bears  me  witness  that  I  had  no  such 
thought,"  he  answered  gravely,  with  a  searching  glance 


286  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

that  caused  the  lady  the  chagrin  of  wounded  self-esteem ; 
and  turned  her  fancy  for  him  into  bitter  hatred. 

"  Tell  me,  at  least,  who  is  the  foe  you  went  to  seek 
in  Brittany."  she  said,  endeavoring  to  recover  her 
self-possession. 

"  The  Marshal  de  Retz,"  he  answered.  "I  jour 
neyed  there  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  information 
against  him." 

In  a  moment  the  Agnes  of  frivolous  caprice  became 
the  Agnes  of  cold  deliberation,  —  a  statesman  intent 
on  a  far-reaching  purpose. 

"  The  Bishop  of  Nantes,  as  you  know,  is  my  friend," 
she  said.  "  By  that  you  may  guess  that  the  marshal 
is  my  enemy.  Tell  me  what  you  may  have  gathered 
against  him." 

"  Allow  me  to  delay  obedience  until  I  hear  what 
you  mean  to  communicate  to  me  concerning  the 
Pucelle,"  he  answered. 

She  hesitated.  "  I  know  not  how  far  I  may  trust 
you,"  she  said.  "  I  have  for  some  time  cherished 
the  conviction  that  this  Jeanne  des  Armoises  may  be 
a  pretender,  gaining  credit  by  a  deception  which  is 
an  advantage  to  those  who  abet  her.  The  Marshal 
de  Retz  has  been  her  sole  supporter  among  the 
nobles  of  the  court.  He  is  high  in  the  king's  favor, 
and  I  have  not  been  able  to  undermine  his  influ 
ence.  His  wealth  is  boundless,  and  they  say  he  deals 


THE   LADY   OF   BEAUTE.  287 

in  the  black  art.  To  test  the  matter,  Jeanne  is  to 
be  summoned  immediately  to  court" — Des  Armoises 
started,  — "  and  on  the  occasion  of  the  ball  at  the 
castle,  she  is  to  be  confronted  with  the  king.  If  she 
is  a  pretender,  there  is  one  crucial  test  which  she 
cannot  endure.  The  king  will  ask  her  to  tell  him 
the  secret  that  was  between  him  and  the  Maid.  Only 
two  people  in  France  know  this  secret;  and,  unless 
she  is  the  true  Jeanne,  she  can  give  no  answer  to 
the  question." 

Des  Armoises  was  greatly  agitated ;  but  he  en 
deavored  to  speak  calmly  as  he  said,  "All  things 
have  their  end;  and  the  purpose  of  God  may  be 
guiding  the-  event  towards  the  exposure  of  an  im 
postor.  I  have  learned  to  believe  that  this  is  a 
necessary  condition  to  the  overthrow  of  the  marshal." 

"  We  are  in  accord,  then,"  said  Agnes,  giving 
him  her  hand.  "  Let  us  swear  fealty  to  a  common 
purpose." 

Des  Armoises  took  the .  proffered  hand,  but  quickly 
relinquished  it,  and  stood  with  downcast  head,  strug 
gling  with  himself.  Duty  had  taken  a  double  shape, 
and  was  beckoning  him  to  contrary  resolutions.  At 
last  he  said,  "If  that  test  should  fail,  I  will  tell  you 
of  another  which  may  serve  the  purpose.  Tell  the 
supposed  Pucelle  that  her  husband  is  dead ;  that  you 
have  met  a  friend  of  his  who  was  with  him  in  his 


288  THE   SHIELD  OF   THE   FLEUli-DE-LIS. 

last  moments.  Cause  her  to  believe  this,  and  you 
will  bring  her  to  confession." 

Agnes  looked  at  him  keenly  as  she  said,  "  I  will 
remember  the  suggestion.  In  return  for  my  con 
fidence,  I  will  ask  you  to  tell  me  what  evidence  you 
may  have  succeeded  in  gathering  against  the  marshal. 
The  Bishop  of  Nantes,  who  is  his  implacable  enemy, 
would  surely  have  aided  you  in  this." 

What  Des  Armoises  replied  did  not  transpire  until 
the  same  evidence,  in  the  mouths  of  others  eager  to 
overwhelm  a  fallen  foe,  secured  damning  judgment 
against  the  man,  the  public  avowal  of  whose  crimes 
awoke  incredulous  horror  in  the  fiercest  and  most 
hardened  spirits  of  that  blood-stained  age. 

Meantime,  the  marshal,  secure  in  a  delusive  pros 
perity  that  contained  no  hint  of  coming  ruin,  saw, 
in  the  summoning  of  the  Pucelle  to  court,  the  crown 
ing  of  his  hopes.  Once  let  her  gain  the  confi 
dence  of  the  credulous  king,  and  he  believed  that 
her  influence  could  be  extended  until  it  should  rival 
that  of  the  vacillating  monarch's  most  trusted  advi 
sers;  perhaps  deposing  them  to  admit  the  reign  of  a 
new  favorite,  who  should  be  guided  by  the  counsels 
of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  thus  allowing  him  to  become 
what  La  Tre'moille  once  had  been,  the  power  behind 
the  throne,  the  true  ruler  of  France. 


DISCOVERY.  289 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DISCOVERY. 

CLAUDE  had  become  an  automaton 
moved  by  another's  will ;  and  life  to 
her  was  a  succession  of  fevered  days 
and  nights,  through  which  she  passed 
sustained  only  by  an  illusive  hope, 
as  the  traveller  in  the  desert  is  cheered  by  a  mock 
ing  mirage.  That  she  could  ever  regain  her  lost 
happiness  became  more  and  more  impossible,  even 
as  a  dream ;  and,  at  the  suggestion  of  despair,  a 
yawning  gulf  seemed  to  open  at  her  feet.  A  tempter 
was  ever  at  her  side,  ready,  with  plausible  fallacies, 
to  prove  good  evil  and  evil  good,  and  to  confuse 
expediency  with  justice.  Resist  his  power  as  she 
might,  his  constant  presence  was  in  itself  a  baleful 
influence ;  for  the  atmosphere  of  personality  with 
which  each  soul  unconsciously  invests  itself,  was,  in 
the  case  of  Gilles  de  Laval,  tainted  with  the  very 
breath  of  hell.  Handsome,  learned,  rich,  and  power 
ful,  he  was  able  to  deceive  even  himself  with  the 
convincing  argument  of  success.  He  would  have 


290  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE  FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

Claude  believe  that  happiness  is  to  be  found  only  in 
gratified  ambition;  the  difference  between  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  consisting  only  in  the  varying 
degrees  with  which  men  have  been  endowed  with 
ability  to  attain  dominion  over  their  fellows. 

Love  he  defined  as  a  passion  in  which  one  must 
give  all,  and  in  the  end  lose  all,  constancy  being  an 
empty  dream,  and  the  soul  that  remains  master  of 
itself  being  the  only  one  able  to  escape  the  wreck 
of  its  illusions.  He  ridiculed  Claude's  fidelity  to  a 
past  that  had  no  more  concern  with  the  actual  mo 
ment  than  the  forgotten  loves  of  the  Pharaohs,  —  a 
past  hour  being  as  inevitably  lost  as  a  past  century, 
—  and  he  endeavored  to  impress  upon  her  his  belief 
in  the  all-sufficing  character  of  the  present.  He  de 
clared  that  an  evil  angel  had  gifted  man  with  hope 
and  memory,  the  foes  of  joy ;  and  that  he  who  would 
truly  realize  contentment  must  be  able  to  detach 
his  heart  from  all  outside  of  the  passing  hour.  The 
intellect,  that  higher  and  more  spiritual  part  of  man, 
might  busy  itself  with  the  concerns  of  the  future ;  for 
it  was  as  unimpressible  as  fire,  and  of  the  same  ethe 
real  quality.  Ambition  thus  became  the  highest  duty, 
and  would  lead  the  soul  from  sphere  to  sphere  through 
all  the  celestial  mansions  of  eternity. 

According  to  his  philosophy,  Claude  was  happy  in 
that  she  had  risen  from  the  obscure  station  of  a  peas- 


DISCOVERY.  291 

ant  girl,  a  servant,  to  that  of  the  companion  of  princes. 
When  the  long-desired  invitation  came  from  the  royal 
court,  he  became  more  daring  in  his  speculations.  He 
told  his  pupil  that  the  tickle  king  was  weary  of  the 
counsellors  furnished  him,  and  the  mistress  chosen  for 
him  by  his  mother-in-law,  Queen  Yolande.  Boldness 
and  resolution  were  all  that  was  necessary  to  effect 
another  revolution  at  court,  and  to  depose  the  present 
favorites  from  their  unstable  positions.  Let  Charles 
of  Valois  and  Jeanne  of  Orleans  join  hands  in  com 
pleting  the  salvation  of  the  kingdom,  and  all  France 
would  prostrate  herself  before  her  rightful  monarch, 
who  would  become  the  Charlemagne  of  his  time. 

Claude  listened  un protesting:  for,  when  with  the 
marshal,  she  felt  like  the  fascinated  victim  of  a  py 
thon's  benumbing  influence ;  and  she  realized,  that, 
without  a  heaven-sent  succor,  she  could  not  escape  a 
complete  and  final  surrender.  The  thought  of  her 
children's  death  was  like  the  pang  of  a  two-edged 
sword.  In  the  night-time  her  ears  were  haunted  by 
the  bubbling  cries  which  the  cruel  waters  of  the  Mo 
selle  had  stilled  forever.  The  nurse  with  her  charge 
had  been  swept  overboard  in  an  accident  which  had 
occurred  to  the  boat  in  which  the  journey  had  been 
made  to  Toui.;  and.  although  the  dead  body  of  the 
woman  had  been  recovered,  the  children's  little  forms 
could  never  rest  in  holy  ground.  Father  Ambrose 


292  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

assured  her  that  their  innocent  souls  were  safe  in  the 
keeping  of  the  angels  of  God;  but  Claude  was  sure 
that  those  strong  and  sinless  guardians  could  never 
give  such  love  as  mothers  learn  in  agonizing  pain. 
The  feeble  little  souls,  strangers  in  paradise,  needed 
her  care.  She  must  keep  herself  worthy  that  she 
might  go  to  them. 

This  was  the  influence  which  fortified  her  with  in 
ward  resistance,  giving  her  the  consciousness  of  a 
latent  strength,  which,  if  aroused,  might  make  the 
the  marshal's  resolution  quail  before  her  own.  The 
visit  to  Loches  was  to  mark  a  crisis  in  her  fate,  but 
not  with  the  result  that  De  Retz  triumphantly  fore 
told.  She  believed  that,  once  in  the  presence  of  the 
king,  she  should  find  courage  to  implore  his  protec 
tion,  confess  the  imposture,  and  leave  the  result  with 
the  God  who  hates  a  lie  and  the  mafcer  of  it. 

In  lonely  hours  of  prayer  and  vigil  she  had  reached 
this  determination.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  true 
Jeanne,  as  an  unseen  influence,  was  urging  her  to  it; 
the  voices  of  her  children  and  their  angelic  guardians 
enjoined  it,  as  did  also  a  less  exalted  motive  —  a 
deadly  hatred  of  the  marshal,  to  whom  exposure 
would  mean  ruin. 

The  promptings  of  conscience,  howgver,  were  op 
posed  by  those  of  a  passionate  love.  Des  Armoises  had 
promised  to  receive  her  when  she  should  have  reached 


DISCOVERY.  293 

the  height  of  fame  where  the  true  Jeanne  had  stood. 
Was  not  the  present  that  moment  of  success  to  which 
she  had  appealed  ?  the  hope  of  which  had  fortified  her 
through  hardship  and  peril,  amid  scenes  of  bloodshed 
at  which  her  woman's  nature  revolted,  in  times  of  weak 
ness  and  despair,  when  it  had  shone  as  the  only  star 
in  the  blackness  of  her  night.  Must  she  relinquish 
this  hope  at  the  moment  of  its  fruition?  Love  pre 
vailed,  and  kept  her  silent  when  the  marshal  talked  of 
wealth  and  glory,  a  seat  near  the  throne,  and  triumphs 
before  which  the  memory  of  Orleans  must  pale. 

The  banquet  hall  at  Loches  was  ablaze  with  count 
less  candles,  hung  in  glittering  candelabra,  and  gay  with 
costly  decorations  for  the  royal  fete,  the  expenditures 
for  which  might  have  assisted  in  the  payment  of  the 
arrears  of  which  the  soldiers  in  the  army  so  bitterly 
complained.  The  dance  went  on  no  less  merrily  at 
Loches,  that  in  the  farther  provinces  of  France  tears 
and  blood  flowed,  and  hands  were  raised  in  vain  appeal 
by  the  tortured  and  oppressed.  He  who  takes  wide 
views  of  life  may  always  find  subject  for  lament;  and 
the  courtiers,  by  limiting  their  sympathies,  extended 
the  play  of  those  faculties  which  flourish  best  in  the 
atmosphere  x>f  royal  salons,  wit  and  persiflage,  and 
the  humorous  appreciation  of  those  subtler  shades  of 
thought  and  fancy  which  go  unnoticed  by  the  common 


THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

herd.  There  were  profound  thinkers,  subtle  reasoners, 
and  deep  philosophers  at  the  court  of  Charles  the  Well- 
served,  restless  minds  with  whom  action  translated 
itself  into  intrigue  and  subterfuge,  who  lived  in  secret 
distrust  of  their  friends,  and  in  smiling  hatred  of  their 
enemies.  Power  was  the  god  to  whom  these  plotters 
sacrificed;  and  love,  honor,  decorum,  modesty,  were 
some  of  the  votive  gifts  that  decked  his  altar. 

It  was  a  busy  world,  sufficient  unto  itself  ;  and  Jeanne 
of  Domrdmy  had  not  been  welcome  there  when  she 
came  from  her  spindle  and  distaff  to  claim  the  sword 
and  banner  of  a  commander  in  the  war.  Her  return 
was  even  more  unwelcome,  exciting  a  malevolent  activ 
ity  like  that  which  greets  the  intrusion  of  a  wasp  into 
a  hive  of  bees.  Agnes  Sorel  was  the  only  one  who 
manifested  no  concern  or  distrust,  but  prepared  with 
whole-souled  generosity  to  welcome  the  Pucelle.  She 
relinquished  to  her  service  her  suite  of  apartments 
near  those  of  the  queen,  and  deputed  her  most  trusted 
maids  to  attend  her.  She  laid  aside  the  regal  splendor 
which  she.  had  of  late  assumed,  in  favor  of  the  simple 
fashions  which  she  had  first  brought  to  court  in  the 
train  of  the  Duchess  Isabel.  It  pleased  her  to  remem 
ber  that  she  was,  in  a  sense,  the  daughter  of  Lor 
raine  ;  and  she  greeted  the  Pucelle  as  a  sister,  and 
one  with  her  in  love  of  France. 

De    Retz   smiled   grimly    when   he    saw   the   gentle 


DISCOVERY.  295 

Agnes  with  her  arm  about  Claude's  waist,  pacing  with 
her  up  and  down  a  garden  alley. 

"  Is  it  that  you  feel  an  instinctive  dread  of  a  rival, 
my  Lady  of  BeauteY'  he  said  under  his  breath,  "  and 
are  taking  means  to  ingratiate  yourself  with  her  before 
the  storm  breaks  upon  your  lovely  head?" 

Bewildered  by  the  confusion  and  glitter  of  the  new 
world  in  which  she  found  herself,  Claude  clung  instinc 
tively  to  the  only  friendly  hand  outstretched  to  her; 
and  she  responded  warmly  to  the  advances  made  by 
the  lovely  lady,  whose  beauty  seemed  second  only  to 
her  goodness  and  kindness  of  heart.  The  king,  with 
characteristic  procrastination,  put  off  the  decisive  meet 
ing  from  day  to  day;  and  Agnes  took  advantage  of 
the  time  afforded  her  to  win  the  confidence  of  her 
whom,  she  could  not  yet  determine  to  be  other  than 
the  true  Jeanne  Dare.  Every  question  as  to  her 
past  elicited  frank  and  characteristic  responses  ;  each 
of  her  old  companions  at  arms  who  was  introduced 
to  her  presence  she  greeted  by  name  without  hesita 
tion;  and  no  one  dared  to  express  the  bewildering 
doubt  in  which  they  were  left  as  to  the  reality  of 
that  which  their  senses  witnessed. 

The  Lady  of  Beauts'  did  not  realize  that  against  her 
shrewd  inquisition  there  was  pitted  the  determination 
of  a  loving  woman,  conscious  that  the  crucial  moment 
of  her  fate  had  come ;  and  the  desperate  resolve  of 


296  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

an  ambitious  man,  who  knew  that  for  years  powerful 
foes  had  been  slowly  but  surely  drawing  a  net  about 
his  feet.  The  marshal,  assisted  by  his  confessor,  the 
Italian  Francois,  was  alive  to  every  movement  of  sus 
picion,  and  every  scheme  for  discovery  which  the  rest 
less  ingenuity  of  her  enemies  could  devise.  Smiles  he 
knew  were  more  dangerous  than  frowns  ;  and  he  warned 
Claude  to  be  especially  on  her  guard  against  the  blue- 
eyed  lady  whose  charming  simplicity  had  so  greatly 
attracted  her. 

"Give  her  no  confidence,"  he  said.  "Eat  nothing 
that  comes  to  you  from  her  hand.  I  have  known 
poison  to  be  conveyed  in  a  sweetmeat  taken  from  one 
lady's  plate  to  be  placed  upon  that  of  a  rival  seated  at 
her  side.  Believe  nothing  'that  your  ears  and  eyes 
advise  you  of.  Remember  only  my  instructions,  and 
look  to  me  or  to  Francois  in  every  moment  of  doubt. 
For  the  meeting  with  the  king,  I  have  already  prepared 
you;  fail  not  then,  and  you  are  forever  secure." 

Claude  thought  of  these  words  when  she  felt  the  arm 
of  the  Lady  of  Beaute*  about  her  waist ;  but  she  could 
not  distrust  the  clear  eyes  and  frank  countenance  of 
her  whom  she  believed  to  be  greatly  injured  by  slan 
derous  tongues,  since  after  the  confidences  which 
Agnes  had  given  her  it  was  impossible  to  agree  in  the 
world's  uncharitable  interpretation  of  her  position  at 
the  court. 


DISCOVERY.  297 

She  professed  an  ardent  devotion  to  her  royal  mis 
tress,  whose  sweetness  and  generosity  she  much  ex 
tolled;  and  for  the  king  she  had  a  reverent  admiration, 
which,  when  first  she  came  to  court,  she  had  expressed 
with  a  frankness  that  awakened  comment  of  a  sort  she 
had  not  dreamed  of. 

"  Bravery,  tempered  with  prudence,  unswerving  de 
votion  to  a  losing  cause,  cheerfulness  in  adversity; 
these  things  I  recognized  in  him,  and  they  seemed  to 
me  to  be  worthy  of  a  king.  Since  then  he  has  grown 
in  statesmanship  and  the  powers  that  make  a  leader  of 
men.  Shall  I  withdraw  myself  from  the  confidence 
reposed  in  me  by  both  my  royal  patrons  because  evil- 
minded  people  judge  all  others  by  themselves?  " 

Before  Claude  was  aware  that  she  was  incautiously 
disregarding  the  marshal's  warning,  she  had  opened 
her  heart  to  her  new  friend,  whose  curious  inquiries 
as  to  the  mystery  concerning  her  marriage  and  separa 
tion  from  her  husband,  she  had  not  been  able  altogether 
to  escape,  since  they  were  dictated,  Agnes  assured  her, 
i>y  a  sincere  desire  that  the  Pucelle  should  take  the 
place  she  deserved  as  the  saviour  of  the  kingdom. 
"  The  king  delays  to  receive  you,"  Agnes  declared, 
"because  of  the  scandalous  rumors  that  have  come  to 
us  from  Metz,  and  which  he  is  unwilling  to  entertain 
in  spite  of  the  mystery  that  surrounds  that  portion  of 
your  history.  Tell  me  as  a  friend  how  it  was  you 


298  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

came  to  marry.  Was  it  from  love  or  from  am 
bition?" 

Tims  questioned,  Claude  unburdened  her  heart  as  far 
as  was  possible  without  betraying  her  secret,  finding 
relief  in  the  opportunity  thus  given  her  to  relate  the 
thoughts  and  memories  upon  which  her  fancy  fed. 

"  Tell  me  what  sort  of  a  man  was  this  wondrously 
perfect  Sire  Des  Armoises,"  said  Agnes  lightly.  "  Had 
he  blue  eyes  or  dark?  was  he  hard  favored  or  with  a 
womanish  beauty  ?  I  am  curious  to  know ;  for  when 
you  tell  me  that  he  was  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
world  I  say  '  no '  to  that,  for  I  have  seen  a  man  with 
a  face  like  an  angel." 

Claude,  with  a  look  of  sad  abstraction,  began  a  de 
scription  of  the  face  and  form  which  still  haunted  her 
dreams ;  and  Agnes  listened  with  a  suddenly  awakened 
suspicion,  which,  upon  reflection,  grew  to  an  obvious 
certainty.  She  felt  a  cruel  satisfaction  in  a  thought 
which  lent  to  her  blue  eyes  a  steely  glitter,  and  caused 
the  sensuous  curves  of  her  mouth  to  harden  into  lines 
that  betrayed  an  implacable  resolve. 

"I  shall  have  revenge,  my  knight  of  the  lily,"  she 
thought;  "a  full  and  complete  revenge. — What  you 
say  serves  to  remind  me,"  she  remarked,  "  that  I  have 
once  met  the  man  whom  you  describe."  Claude  started 
with  quick  emotion.  "  I  recall  to  mind  that  his  name 
was  the  same.  It  had  escaped  my  memory,  for  I  met 


DISCOVERY.  299 

him  under  circumstances  which  I  was  willino-  to  for- 

o 

get."  Claude  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart.  "  Tell 
me  how  you  chanced  to  meet,"  she  said. 

"No;  that  I  cannot  do,"  replied  Agnes,  measuring 
her  listener  with  a  keen,  unfriendly  glance.  "When 
last  I  heard  from  him  he  was  desperately  ill,  and  sent 
to  urge  from  me  a  favor  which  I  could  not  grant. 
How  his  illness  resulted,  whether  he  lived  or  died,  I 
do  not  know." 

"  Not  know  but  that  he  may  be  dead !  "  cried  Claude. 
"  Cruel,  heartless  woman,  I  must  believe  all  that  I  have 
ever  heard  against  you !  You  have  been  assuming  a 
pretence  of  friendship  to  torture  me  thus  at  last." 

"  If  it  interests  you,  I  can  learn  all  that  you 
may  choose  to  hear  from  an  intimate  friend  of  his 
who  is  at  present  in  Loch'es,"  said  Agnes  coldly,  dis 
regarding  the  injurious  implication  that  brought  the 
quick  color  to  her  face. 

"I  would  give  all  that  I  have  for  any  word  from 
him,"  said  Claude,  her  tone  changing  to  one  of  humble 
entreaty,  "and  I  would  thank  you  on  my  knees." 

"  This  evening,  in  the  ballroom,  I  will  send  you 
word  of  what  I  may  discover.  The  king  will  grant  you 
an  audience  to-night."  So  saying,  the  Lady  of  Beaute 
turned  and  walked  away  with  an  air  of  indifference, 
leaving  the  pretender  overwhelmed  by  distress  and 
doubt.  The  strange  change  in  the  lady's  manner  and 


300  THE    SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

the  inconsistencies  apparent  in  her  words,  awoke  pain 
ful  suspicions  of  the  sincerity  of  her  friendship ;  and 
the  consciousness  that  the  dreaded  moment  of  the 
royal  audience  could  no  longer  be  postponed  caused 
Claude's  heart  to  sink  with  apprehension. 

The  reference  to  her  husband  had  filled  her  with 
mingled  hope  and  fear,  —  hope  of  a  possible  meeting, 
and  fear  that  the  lady's  sinister  hints  might  hide  some 
painful  tfuth.  Her  previous  efforts  to  discover  news 
of  Des  Armoises  had  been  rewarded  only  in  one  in 
stance,  when  Ambrose,  journeying  upon  an  aimless 
pilgrimage,  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  fulfil  her 
ardent  wish,  had  come  across  Sire  Des  Armoises  kneel 
ing  at  night  before  a  shrine  in  the  cathedral  of  Reims. 
When  addressed,  he  had  risen  in  confusion  and  without 
reply,  and  hastening  to  mount  his  horse,  had  disap 
peared  in  the  darkness.  This  circumstance  made  it 
evident  that  his  persistent  silence  was  no  argument 
against  his  well-being,  while  it  showed  only  too  plainly 
the  hopeless  alienation  of  his  affection. 

A.  fete  champetre  had  been  arranged  for  the  evening; 
and  the  beautiful  gardens,  to  whose  adornment  the 
king  had  devoted  his  attention  while  the  fate  of  his 
kingdom  was  hanging  in  the  balance,  were  full  of  a 
brilliant  throng,  among  whom  the  Pucelle  entered 
trembling,  conducted  by  a  lord  of  the  bedchamber. 

A  vast  arbor,  hung  with  glittering  candelabra  which 


DISCOVERY.  301 

showed  like  magnified  fire-flies  through  the  green,  served 
as  audience  chamber  to  the  king ;  and  here  a  gilded 
throne  was  placed  beneath  a  trellis  of  roses,  and  seats 
of  lesser  dignity  were  occupied  by  the  queen  and  her 
mother,  surrounded  by  the  most  distinguished  nobles 
of  the  court.  Charles  d'Anjou,.  dressed  to  represent 
his  royal  brother-in-law,  sat  upon  the  throne;  and  as 
Claude  approached,  he  rose,  and  advanced  a  step  to 
meet  her.  • 

"His  Highness   is   ready  to   receive  you,"  said  the 

chamberlain.     "  Kneel  and  kiss  his  hand." 

• 

"  This  is  not  the  king,"  responded  Claude.  "  I  beg 
you  will  lead  me  to  him." 

These  words  produced  a  visible  sensation  in  the 
throng. 

•  "  'Tis  Jeanne  herself,"  said  one,  in  a  voice  expressive 
of  anything  but  satisfaction.  "  Just  so  it  was  contrived 
at  Chinon  that  she  should  be  deluded  by  a  false  repre 
sentation  of  the  king,  which  did  not  for  a  moment 
deceive  her." 

"  Notice  whether  she  will  as  readily  detect  his  Royal 
Highness,"  replied  another.  "  He  sits  yonder  in  the 
shadow  with  his  lame  foot  on  a  cushion,  and  he  is 
talking  to  one  of  the  queen's  ladies  in  waiting." 

"  If  it  were  with  the  queen  herself,  the  disguise 
would  have  been  complete,"  said  a  flippant  wit  in  a 
whisper. 


302  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Led  by  the  chamberlain,  Claude  moved  slowly  for 
ward,  followed  by  an  eager  and  curious  crowd,  among 
whom,  as  Agnes  Sorel  observed,  the  foremost  was  the 
Marshal  de  Retz,  between  whom  and  his  protegee  she 
more  than  once  had  detected  the  exchange  of  a  quick 
glance  of  intelligence. 

Charles  turned  to  find  the  pretender  on  her  knees 
at  his  feet.  She  had  fallen  there,  speechless  with 
horror,  as*a  piece  of  paper  had  been  thrust  into  her 
hand,  upon  which  at  a  glance  she  read  these  words :  — 

• 
"  Your  husband  died  of  the  illness  of  which   I  told  you.     I 

have  the  news  from  the  friend  who  closed  his  eyes." 

As  if  through  surging  waves  that  overwhelmed  her, 
she  heard  the  voice  of  the  king,  who  extended  his  hand 
to  raise  her,  exclaiming  in  a  tone  which  betrayed  the 
credulous  surprise  he  felt  at  the  detection  of  his  dis 
guise,  "  Welcome,  Pucelle,  my  good  friend,  in  the  name 
of  God  who  alone  knows  the  secret  that  is  between 
you  and  me." 

"  God  pardon  me,  and  grant  that  your  Highness  may 
have  mercy  upon  me!"  she  cried,  bursting  into  tears. 
"  I  am  not  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  but  an  unhappy  wife 
who  has  driven  her  husband  to  his  death,  an  impostor, 
whom  heaven  and  earth  cry  out  against.  Forgive  me, 
forgive  me ;  for  I  am  a  lost  and  stricken  soul." 

In   aa   instant   the  place  was  in  an  uproar.     Some 


DISCOVERY.  303 

cried  treason,  and  drew  their  swords  about  the  king 
to  defend  him  from  they  knew  not  what  attempt  of 
his  enemies ;  vengeance  was  urged  upon  the  trembling 
woman,  who  grovelled  in  the  agony  of  her  grief  and 
shame;  and  threats  were  made  against  those  who  had 
contrived  the  intrigue,  De  Retz's  name  in  some  mys 
terious  way  finding  utterance  upon  the  lips  of  those 
who  repeated  it,  not  knowing  from  whom  the  sugges 
tion  first  had  come.  • 

As  if  to  confirm  suspicion,  the  marshal  immediately 
left  the  castle,  retiring  to  Nantes,  where  he  was  shortly 
afterwards  arrested  by  the  order  of  the  Duke  of  Brit 
tany,  who  had  long  been  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
humiliate  the  Lavals,  who  occupied  a  threatening  line 
of  fortresses  on  the  borders  of  Maine,  Brittany,  and 
Poitou,  and  formed  a  powerful  opposition  to  the  duke, 
succeeding  at  last,  in  spite  of  the  fall  of  De  Retz,  in 
delivering  the  duchy  to  the  king. 

The  marshal,  secure  in  the  prestige  of  his  name, 
made  no  attempt  to  escape  his  enemies,  and  with 
arrogant  unconcern  confronted  the  tribunal  formed 
to  try  his  cause,  consisting  of  the  Bishop  of  Nantes, 
Chancellor  of  Brittany,  the  Vicar  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  the  grand  judge  of  the  duchy.  The  developments 
of  his  trial  caused  horror  throughout  the  country. 
The  charges  of  murder  and  sorcery  were  amazingly 
verified.  He  was  condemned  to  the  stake ;  but,  in 


304  THE   SHIELD    OF   THE   FLEUll-DE-LIS. 

concession  to  his  position  and  powerful  connections, 
his  sentence  was  mitigated  in  that  he  was  strangled 
before  reaching  the  place  of  execution.  Before  the 
body  was  consumed,  it  was  given  up,  at  the  demand 
of  his  relatives,  to  a  company  of  nuns  led  by  the 
Abbess  Hilda,  who,  with  their  own  hands,  gave  it 
honorable  burial  in  the  church  of  the  Carmelites, 
which  the  marshal's  gifts  had  founded. 

Meantime  the  fate  of  the  false  Jeanne  hung  in  the 
balance.  A  council  was  held,  consisting  of  the  king's 
most  intimate  advisers,  many  of  whom,  suspecting  a 
widespread  conspiracy,  were  eager  to  visit  upon  the 
pretender  the  severest  penalties  of  the  law.  Some 
urged  the  gibbet  and  the  stake ;  others  a  slow  starva 
tion  or  perpetual  imprisonment ;  but  the  king,  fortified 
by  the  advice  of  his  secret  and  most  trusted  counsellor, 
declared  himself  in  favor  of  more  lenient  measures. 

"  Leave  her  punishment  to  me,  my  lord,"  Agnes 
Sorel  had  said.  "Is  it  not  evident? that  this  imposture 
succeeded  simply  because  the  people  of  France  yearned 
to  believe,  even  against  all  probability,  that  which  they 
most  desired?  Jeanne  Dare  is,  and  must  ever  be,  the 
idol  of  her  countrymen ;  she  is  France  incarnate,  the 
unconquerable  spirit  of  an  unselfish  patriotism  that  is 
deathless  because  divine.  Let  us  not  oppose  ourselves 
to  this  superstitious  veneration  for  her  name.  Destroy 
the  false  Jeanne,  and  she  becomes  a  martyr ;  shut  her 


DISCOVERY.  305 

in  prison,  and  endless  conspiracies  will  be  undertaken 
for  her  release,  for  it  will  be  impossible  to  convince  the 
people  of  their  error.  The  widest  publicity  must  be 
given  to  the  exposure  of  the  pretender.  Let  shame  be 
her  only  punishment ;  it  will  be  a  sufficient  one." 

Claude  herself  was  indifferent  to  her  fate,  and  care 
less  of  the  gratitude  which  she  was  told  she  owed  to 
the  Lady  of  Beaute*  for  her  intercession  in  her  favor. 
Agnes,  indeed,  was  actuated  only  by  motives  of  policy, 
and  had  so  little  compassion  for  her  whom  she  sus 
pected  to  be  her  unconscious  rival  that  she  had  devised 
one  added  pang  for  her  to  suffer  before  she  went  forth 
to  meet  the  world's  execration. 

Roger  D'Arblay,  the  mysterious  knight  of  the  lily, 
had  been  summoned  to  Nantes  to  appear  as  one  of  the 
witnesses  against  the  marshal.  Before  he  set  out  he 
had  been  bidden  to  a  farewell  interview  with  Madame 
Agnes  in  her  boudoir,  to  reach  which  the  page  who 
conducted  him  contrived  that  he  should  make  the 
tour  of  the  apartments  which,  with  sarcastic  gener 
osity,  Agnes  still  allowed  to  the  occupancy  of  the 
false  Jeanne,  and  where,  in  the  midst  of  splendor,  she 
was  now  a  dreary  prisoner. 

The  room  where  she  sat  was  full  of  chattering  ladies, 
who  made  it  their  practice  to  spend  their  mornings 
there  in  the  pretense  of  executing  a  large  tapestry 
which  Agnes  had  devised  to  celebrate  the  exploits  of 


306  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

the  Maid  of  Orleans,  but  in  reality  to  satisfy  both 
their  curiosity  and  their  malice  to  the  full  extent  of 
their  opportunity.  Claude  could  not  escape  the  sound 
of  their  unfriendly  voices,  the  sword  thrusts  of  their 
premeditated  witticisms  and  impertinent  questionings. 
Agnes,  who  sometimes  entered  to  superintend  their 
needlework,  would  curl  her  lips  in  a  smile  of  scorn 
ful  amusement,  which  was  encouragement  enough  for 
the  license  of  her  ladies'  tongues. 

On  the  morning  in  question  every  seat  was  occu 
pied,  and  the  work  went  on  with  feverish  energy, 
while  eyes  and  ears  were  strained  and  alert,  until,  at 
the  opening  of  the  farther  door,  conversation  was  sud 
denly  suspended. 

"  This  way,  my  lord,"  said  the  page,  who  wore  the 
liveries  of  Madame  Agnes,  "  my  lady  is  expecting 
you." 

The  pretender  sat  near  a  window  in  an  attitude  of 
listless  dejection,  which  changed-,  as  she  turned  to 
observe  the  young  man  thus  addressed,  into  excited 
amazement.  She  rose  and  stood  with  one  trembling 
hand  upon  the  arm  of  her  chair,  while  she  extended 
the  other  as  if  to  invoke  a  phantom,  her  eyes  dilated, 
her  lips  trembling.  As  the  young  man  approached  she 
took  a  step  forward.  "  Robert !  "  she  exclaimed  under 
her  breath.  He  looked  up  and  their  eyes  met.  He 
hesitated,  colored  violently,  made  a  motion  as  if  he 


DISCOVERY.  307 

were  about  to  speak,  and  then  went  on  his  way  in 
silence. 

As  Claude  sank  half-fainting  into  her  seat,  a  shrill 
burst  of  laughter  came  from  a  lady  who  bent  towards 
her  and  whispered  in N her  ear,  "It  is  in  vain  that 
you  try  to  win  his  notice.  He  has  long  been  the 
dear  friend  of  my  lady  Agnes.  Could  you  hope  to 
be  her  rival,  even  if  he  were  your  husband?" 

"  My  husband !  How  can  you  know  that  ? "  ex 
claimed  Claude,  with  blanching  lips. 

"  He  told  my  lady  the  truth  concerning  you  before 
it  came  to  light  in  any  other  way,"  was  the  reply ; 
"and  he  begged  her  to  deceive  you  by  the  rumor  of 
his  death,  saying  that  he  would  not  for  the  world 
meet  an  exposed  impostor,  who  might  claim  to  be 
his  wife." 

That  day  sentence  was  pronounced  against  the 
false  Jeanne ;  and,  though  she  begged  for  death  and 
rejected  mercy,  it  consisted  only  in  this,  that  she 
should  be  taken  to  the  capital  of  the  kingdom,  and 
there  showed  in  a  public  place  to  all  the  people, 
while  she  should  make  confession  of  her  condition 
and  estate,  and  of  the  foul  imposture  which  she  had 
devised  under  pretense  of  being  the  Pucelle,  whereby 
many  had  been  deceived;  the  same  accusation  and 
confession  being  made  in  every  city  where  she  should 
sojourn  on  the  route  to  Paris. 


308  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE  REVIEW  OF  THE  BASOCHE. 

summer  morning  Paris  awoke  to  the 
pleasing  consciousness  of  an  impend 
ing  festivity,  the  expectation  of  which 
caused  the  desolation  of  the  past  to 
be  forgotten.  Only  two  years  pre 
viously  wolves  had  entered  the  plague-stricken  city, 
and  had  devoured  the  dead  and  dying  in  the  streets; 
now  the  light-hearted  gayety  of  the  Parisians  asserted 
itself,  and,  on  a  day  given  up  to  a  diversion  so  dear 
to  them,  a  public  festival,  decreed  that  none  should 
mourn.  The  clerks  of  the  Basoche  were  once  more  to 
delight  the  eyes  of  their  countrymen  by  their  grand 
annual  parade,  which  was  of  late  fallen  into  desuetude, 
in  consequence  of  the  unfortunate  state  of  public 
affairs,  but  now  to  be  revived  with  more  than  cus 
tomary  splendor,  and  to  be  followed,  as  in  former  days, 
by  the  popular  farce  which  it  had  been  their  habit 
to  perform  quarterly,  in  ridicule  of  king,  priest,  and 
noble,  and  all  the  established  institutions  of  the  state. 
The  license  of  speech  tolerated  on  these  occasions, 


THE   REVIEW   OF   THE  BASOCHE.  309 

rather  than  the  merit  of  the  performance,  won  the 
applause  of  the  populace,  whose  slumbering  grudge 
against  the  oppressions  of  the  great  thus  found  voice, 
and  the  Basochiens  ruled  four  days  in  the  year  by 
the  suffrages  of  the  people. 

For  a  week  the  members  of  ihe  order  had  been 
assembling  at  the  national  capital  from  all  parts  of 
the  country,  each  band  being  under  the  command  of 
its  lieutenant,  and  distinguished  by  a  particular  badge, 
significant  of  the  province  or  city  to  which  it  be 
longed.  The  rallying  place  for  the  day  was  the 
square  before  the  Palace  of  Justice,  where,  reviving 
a  former  custom,  they  had  that  year  planted  the  May ; 
and  towards  this  point  the  troops  directed  their  course 
at  early  dawn. 

The  indolent  bourgeois  who  did  not  rise  with  the 
sun  had  his  sleep  disturbed  by  the  loud  fanfares  of 
trumpets  discordantly  sounded,  and  accompanied  by 
the  beat  of  drums  and  the  shrill  sound  of  fifes  and 
hautboys.  Every  musical  company  in  the  city,  being 
temporarily  under  the  orders  of  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Basoche,  was  displaying  an  earnest  endeavor  to  win 
distinction  by  outdoing  the  sound  of  every  other. 
The  result  caused  him  who  heard  it  to  fling  his  cap 
into  the  air,  or  in  some  equally  lively  way  to  display 
his  satisfaction,  while  exclaiming,  "  La  Basoche !  It 
is  the  day  of  the  review." 


310  THE  SHIELD   OF  THE  FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

The  companies  defiled  in  military  order  through 
the  streets,  mounted  upon  horses  whose  housings 
showed  the  color  of  their  riders'  garments,  blue  or 
yellow,  or  a  parti-colored  mixture  of  the  two.  The 
leader  of  each  company  bore  a  standard,  to  which  was 
attached  a  piece  of  vellum  painted  with  the  design 
which  the  members  of  his  command  wore  on  the 
shoulder.  With  some  it  was  a  cwur-de-lis,  emblem 
of  Orleans  ;  with  others  from  the  same  region  of  the 
Loire,  a  prickly  porcupine.  One  loyal  troop  bore  the 
golden  sun,  the  device  of  Charles  of  Valois.  The 
assistants  of  the  commander-in-chief  were  known  -  by 
the  ivy  wreath,  the  especial  device  of  the  order. 

The  forming  of  the  procession  was  assisted  by  these 
special  marks,  which  enabled  each  member  to  report 
to  his  own  lieutenant ;  who,  in  turn,  placed  himself 
under  the  command  of  one  or  another  of  the  twelve 
captains,  who  divided  the  forces  into  as  many  bri 
gades  ;  and  these  being  reinforced  by  accessions  from 
the  clerks  of  the  Parliament  and  Chatelet  as  they 
proceeded,  became  a  formidable  host  before  they 
reached  the  meeting-place. 

Tli3  king  of  the  Basoche  sat  upon  a  throne  on  a 
platform  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  palace  yard.  He 
wore  a  blue  velvet  mantle,  sewn  with  golden  fleurs- 
de-lis,  over  a  robe  of  yellow  satin  brocaded  with  blue 
ivy  leaves.  The  rich  tapestry  which  covered  the  plat- 


THE   REVIEW    OF   THE   BASOCHE.  311 

form  was  worked  to  display  the  arms  of  the  order. 
The  king  held  the  sceptre  of  office  in  his  hand;  and, 
as  each  company  defiled  before  him,  he  lowered  it 
with  a  gesture  of  regal  condescension  to  acknowledge 
the  salute  of  the  captain.  Mounted  heralds  were  busy 
on  all  sides  in  repressing  the  efforts  of  the  populace 
to  gain  possession  of  coveted  positions  within  the 
courtyard  for  the  observation  of  the  show.  The 
clamor  of  the  multitude,  and  the  successive  strains 
of  twelve  musical  companies  as  they  circled  through 
the  square,  produced  a  deafening  hubbub. 

When  all  his  subjects  had  passed  in  review  before 
him,  the  king  laid  aside  his  mantle,  mounted  a  mettle 
some  charger  that  stood  waiting,  and,  seizing  a  cornet, 
led  the  way  in  a  wild  chase  through  the  city,  fol 
lowed  by  his  twelve  companies,  each  member  of  which 
was  blowing  a  horn  or  beating  a  drum.  In  the  order 
of  their  rank  they  visited  the  houses  of  the  first 
and  second  presidents  of  the  Chamber,  the  attorney- 
general,  the  chancellor,  the  deputies  and  councillors, 
and  officers  of  the  king.  Each,  in  turn,  was  greeted 
with  an  alarum  from  eight  hundred  instruments,  and 
a  shout  from  as  many  throats;  after  which  the 
Basochiens  came  back  in  a  mad  race  to  the  palace. 

It  was  sauve  qui  pent  with  the  crowd  in  the  streets, 
when,  now  here,  now  there,  a  drum  or  a  trumpet 
announced  a  flying  squad  of  horsemen,  whose  aim  it 


312  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

was  to  reach,  before  all  others,  the  goal  marked  by 
the  oak-tree  planted  the  first  of  May,  in  honor  of  the 
Basoche,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase  of  the  palace. 
Here  all  dismounted,  hung  their  badges  on  the  tree, 
and  disbanded  to  prepare  for  the  performance  of  the 
farce. 

In  the  crowded  condition  of  the  thoroughfares,  a 
new  procession,  making  its  way  in  the  direction  of 
the  University,  found  it  difficult  to  proceed,  though 
the  armed  soldiers  who  rode  in  it  demanded  place 
in  the  name  of  the  king. 

"  There  is  no  king  to-day  in  Paris  but  the  King  of 
the  Basoche,"  said  an  impertinent  horseman,  who, 
under  the  impulse  of  the  surging  multitude,  found 
himself  involuntarily  disputing  the  passage  of  the 
Rue  de  la  Vielle  Draperie.  "Which  reminds  me," 
he  added  boldly,  "  that  it  becomes  my  duty  to  arrest 
you  in  the  name  of  his  Highness  as  treasonable  in 
truders  'without  a  permit  in  precincts  sacred  to  his 
authority." 

The  soldiers  swore  roundly,  but,  knowing  the  license 
long  accorded  to  the  organization  of  the  Basoche, 
their  leader  at  last  consented  to  display  to  the  self- 
constituted  guardian  of  the  law  the  orders  under 
which  he  brought  a  prisoner  from  Loches  to  Paris. 
This  prisoner  had  become  to  so  great  an  extent  the 
object  of  the  curious  scrutiny  of  the  populace,  that  the 


THE   REVIEW  OF  THE  BASOCHE.  313 

festival  of  the  day  and  the  promised  farce  bade  fair 
to  be  forgotten. 

The  object  of  this  interest  was  a  young  and  hand 
some  woman,  dressed  in  a  travelling  costume  of  sombre 
hue,  but  strangely  distinguished  by  two  pasteboard 
escutcheons  hung  across  her  bosom  and  upon  her 
back,  the  one  bearing  in  red  letters  the  word  Liar, 
the  other,  Impostor. 

The  Basochien,  after  reading  the  warrant  signed  and 
sealed  in  the  name  of  the  king,  judged  it  discreet  to 
allow  the  sergeant  to  proceed  upon  his  wa}%  with  a 
message  to  the  attorney-general  that  the  prisoner 
whom  he  was  expecting  had  been  brought  to  Paris 
to  suffer  the  judgment  decreed  by  the  king  to  be 
done  under  the  direction  of  the  officers  of  the  Parlia 
ment  and  University;  but  the  clerk  of  the  Basoche 
inserted  the  request  that  the  penalty  should  be  in 
flicted  with  the  concurrence  of  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Basoche,  who  were  that  day  supreme,  and  that 
'the  scene  of  it  should  be  the  palace  courtyard,  near 
the  decorated  tree  which  was  their  rendezvous. 

"By  St.  Denis,  it  is  ill  done  of  our  masters  to 
attempt  to  divert  attention  from  our  performance  by 
a  rival  spectacle,"  said  the  king,  after  warmly  com 
mending  the  zeal  and  discretion  of  his  captain.  "  They 
have  long  had  a  grudge  against  us,  though  they  do 
not  dare  openly  to  avow  it.  They  threaten  to  sup- 


314  THE    SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUK-DE-LIS. 

press  our  farces,  and  resort  to  underhand  devices  to 
weaken  our  influence.  Give  it  to  them,  my  good 
subjects,  in  your  farce  to-day.  Let  none  be  too  high 
to  escape  your  ridicule." 

After  a  period  of  delay,  an  officer  arrived  with  the 
message  that  no  objection  was  made  to  the  demand 
of  the  Basoche,  since  the  courtyard  of  the  Palace 
of  Justice  would  serve  as  well  as  any  other  place 
for  the  public  exposition  of  the  malefactor  whose  sen 
tence  he  proceeded  to  put  into  execution.  It  re 
quired  that  she  should  stand  in  view  of  the  populace 
until  the  evening,  at  which  time  she  would  be  re 
leased,  and  suffered  to  go  her  way  without  further 
molestation.  The  prisoner  was  accordingly  made  to 
dismount,  her  hood  and  riding-coat  were  removed, 
leaving  her  in  the  plaited  petticoat,  bodice,  and 
kerchief  of  a  peasant  of  Lorraine ;  and  she  was  sta 
tioned,  by  the  further  interference  of  the  clerk  of  the 
Basoche,  upon  the  platform  which  had  borne  the 
royal  throne,  at  the  foot  of  the  broad  staircase  near 
which  the  oak-tree  of  the  Basoche  flaunted  its  gay 
decorations. 

The  clerk  of  the  deputy  provost,  taking  his  stand  near 
by,  cried  in  a  sonorous  voice,  "  People  and  citizens,  the 
honorable  officers  of  the  Parliament,  acting  under 
the  king's  orders,  have  caused  to  be  brought  hither 
the  rank  impostor  and  liar  who  for  the  last  four  years 


THE   REVIEW    OF   THE  BASOCHE.  315 

has  vexed  the  kingdom  with  the  false  claim  that  she 
was  the  Maid  of  Orleans  escaped  from  death  at  Rouen. 
She  is  now  shown  openly  to  all  the  people,  it  being 
ordered  that  she  shall  stand  in  this  place  till  six* of 
the  clock ;  while,  at  the  striking  of  every  hour,  her 
crimes  and  misdemeanors  shall  be  rehearsed  against 
her,  so  that  the  pernicious  falsehood  which  she  has 
maintained  shall  be  exposed  and  denied,  to  the  con 
fusion  of  evil-doers,  and  the  encouragement  of  right 
eousness.  Hear  ye  now  the  confession  of  the  woman 
Claude  taken  from  her  own  mouth,  wherein  she  de 
clares  that  she  has  abused  the  belief  of  the  people 
by  claiming  to  be  Jeanne  the  Maid." 

With  this  preamble  he  read  the  confession,  couched 
in  terms  of  abject  humility,  from  time  to  time  turning 
towards  the  prisoner  and  demanding,  "  Are  these  your 
words  ?  " 

"They  .are  my  words,"  she  answered,  baring  her 
soul  to  ignominy  as  she  would  gladly  have  bared  her 
bosom  to  the  sword. 

The  officers  of  the  Basoche,  co-operating  with  those 
of  the  law,  kept  the  crowd  at  a  distance  sufficient  to 
prevent  their  thronging  the  space  already  guarded 
by  a  twisted  rope  of  blue  and  yellow  ribbon,  which 
encircled  the  tree,  and  the  platform  from  which  the 
throne  had  now  been  removed,  and  which  became  a 
pillory  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  hundreds  who  had 


316  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE  FLEUli-DE-LlS. 

assembled  to  observe  the  Review.  Claude  could  hear 
their  derisive  comments  and  ribald  jests,  and  witness 
their  eager  enjoyment  of  the  spectacle  of  human  degra 
dation  and  suffering,  which  caused  a  keener  and  more 
gleeful  sensation  than  the  view  of  the  parade  or  the 
promised  witticisms  of  the  farce.  A  loud-voiced  her 
ald,  in  a  blue  and  yellow  tabard,  announced  that  the 
hour  for  the  performance  at  the  Chatelet  had  now 
arrived,  beseeching  the  attendance  of  the  spectators, 
and  promising  that  they  might  return  later  by  way 
of  the  palace  where  a  rendezvous  of  the  Basoche  would 
be  called  again  at  the  close  of  the  day ;  a  pillory 
being  not  so  unique  a  spectacle  but  that  it  might  be 
seen  any  day  in  seven  at  the  street  corners,  while  the 
farce  of  the  Basoche  came  only  four  times  a  year. 
By  these  persuasions  he  succeeded  in  partially  empty 
ing  the  courtyard  of  the  thieves,  gamins,  beggars,  and 
women  of  the  town,  as  well  as  the  reputable  citizens 
with  their  wives  and  daughters  who  were  abroad  for 
their  holiday,  and  who  proceeded  on  their  way,  only 
to  give  place  to  others  who  took  the  same  route  for 
their  pleasuring. 

The  sun  climbed  high,  and  its  vertical  rays  fell 
upon  the  bare  head  of  the  prisoner  in  the  courtyard. 
As  the  hour  of  noon  was  sounded  by  the  chimes  of 
Notre  Dame  and  the  deep-toned  bell  of  the  Palace 
of  Justice,  and  taken  up  by  other  metallic  voices  that 


THE    REVIEW   OF   THE  BASOCHE.  31 7 

fell  and  floated  like  distant  echoes,  the  officer  read 
again  the  prisoner's  confession,  'and  asked, — 

"Are  these  your  words?" 

"They  are  my  words,"  she  responded. 

Distinguished  personages  in  rich  attire,  who  went 
up  and  down  the  broad  staircase,  stopped  to  talk  in 
serious  groups  as  they  stared  at  the  culprit,  express 
ing  their  wonder  that  any  could  have  been  deceived 
by  so  patent  a  deception,  that  the  king  should  have 
so  long  delayed  to  punish  it,  and  that  the  punishment 
should  be  so  light. 

"  Orleans,  not  Paris,  should  be  the  scene  of  the 
pretender's  punishment ;  and  the  gibbet  or  the  stake 
should  be  the  means  of  it,"  said  a  member  of  the  Uni 
versity.  "  It  brings  the  law  into  contempt  when  arch- 
traitors  are  treated  more  leniently  than  any  petty 
thief.  I  have  seen  the  time  when  the  University 
would  not  yield  its  privileges  of  abjudication  on 
account  of  a  bit  of  parchment  signed  by  the  king's 
hand.  We  allow  the  pernicious  impostor  to  enter 
and  leave  the  city  on  the  same  day,  when  a  twelve 
month  in  a  dungeon  would  be  none  too  long  a  prep 
aration  for  a  trial,  properly  conducted  by  a  legally 
constituted  court.  Moreover,  by  allowing  the  seditious 
organization  of  the  Basoche  to  co-operate  in  the  exe 
cution  of  this  informal  sentence,  we  lay  ourselves  open 
to  ridicule  as  well  as  to  contempt." 


318  THE    SHIELD   OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

"  I  am,  on  the  whole,  of  your  opinion,  and  consider 
this  royal  monoply  o'f  justice  a  blow  aimed  at  our 
privileges,"  replied  a  colleague ;  "  but  consider  that 
the  people  of  the  provinces,  especially  those  of  Orleans, 
are  madly  devoted  to  the  name  of  the  Pucelle.  They 
have  lately  expended  large  sums  of  money  in  honor 
of  this  impostor,  a-nd  rather  than  acknowledge  them 
selves  to  be  deluded  fools  they  would  be  likely  to  go 
to  any  length  to  maintain  the  delusion." 

With  surly  looks  of  offended  dignity  the  men  of 
the  law  went  on  their  way. 

The  sun  beat  still  more  fiercely  upon  the  weary 
prisoner  in  the  square,  to  whom  the  increasing  phys 
ical  misery  of  her  strained  and  aching  muscles  brought 
the  benumbing  of  mental  pain.  The  unfriendly  com 
ment  of  the  crowd  no  longer  caused  her  nerves  to 
tingle  with  the  keen  pangs  of  shame;  it  seemed  to 
concern  another  than  herself,  whose  punishment  she 
bore  vicariously,  while  in  her  inmost  being  she  was 
far  away  from  the  scene  of  her  ignominy.  She  fancied 
that  she  sat  with  her  sister  Jeanne  upon  the  grass  by  _. 
the  Fairy  Fountain.  There  it  was  always  cool,  for 
a  breeze  swayed  the  pendent  branches  of  the  beech, 
when  every  other  tree  in  the  forest  hung  limp  in  the 
August  noon.  She  could  hear  the  musical  gurgle  of 
the  water  as  it  left  the  basin  for  its  run  over  the  stones. 
Fragments  of  leaves  thrown  into  the  channel  swirled 


THE   REVIEW   OF   THE   BASOCHE.  319 

about  like  boats  at  shipwreck,  following  the  tempes 
tuous  eddies.  "Do  not  tear  the  leaves,  sister;  give 
them  to  me  for  my  garland,"  —  it  was  Jeanne's  voice 
in  its  sweet,  childish  shrillness  like  the  tone  of  a  silver 
bell.  Tears  sprang  to  the  pretender's  eyes.  "  Forgive 
me,  dear  Jeanne,"  she  murmured;  and  at  the  sound 
of  her  own  words  the  spell  was  broken.  The  narrow 
streets  of  Paris,  crowded  and  noisome  even  to  the 
palaces  of  king  and  nobles,  sent  forth  steaming  exha 
lations  in  the  fierce  heat.  A  whining  beggar  was 
making  the  round  of  the  courtyard,  beseeching  aid 
from  all  whom  he  met.  "  I  do  not  ask  from  you,  liar 
and  impostor,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  a  leer  as  he 
passed. 

The  clerk  repeated  his  reading  as  the  clock  of  the 
Palace  of  Justice  gave  the  stroke  of  one.  "She  con 
fesses  that  she  is  no  maid,  but  the  widow  of  a  knight 
to  whom  she  bore  two  sons." 

Claude  flung  her  arms  into  the  air,  while  the  people 
laughed  about  her.  She  did  not  heed  them ;  she  felt 
her  children's  heads  upon  her  breast ;  their  eyes  looked 
into  hers  vague  with  the  mystery  of  life  unconscious 
of  itself,  but  penetrated  and  infused  with  love,  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  all  its  joy  and  pain.  Then 
she  remembered  the  long  street  in  Marville,  with  its 
quaint  red  houses,  and  the  projecting  gold-hung  door 
way  of  Jean  Gugnot's  house,  where  the  Sire  Des 


320  THE    SHIELD    OF   THE    FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Armoises  had  taken  her  hand,  and  smiled  into  her 
eyes  with  admiring  reverence.  "A  widow,  yes,  for 
he  is  dead  to  me,  as  I  to  him,"  she  thought,  blinded 
with  tears  of  shame  and  grief. 

A  man  descended  the  stairway  as  the  clock  struck 
three.  He  had  been  detained  in  the  Salle  Merciere  to 
answer  the  inquiries  of  some  learned  jurists,  who  were 
eager  to  learn  the  particulars  of  the  irotorious  trial 
of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  with  which  all  France  was 
ringing.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  escaped  from 
their  inquisition  by  pretending  ignorance  of  all  that 
had  occurred;  though  his  passports  and  credentials, 
dated  at  Nantes,  argued  that  he  should  be  as  well 
informed  as  those  whose  despatches  he  carried  in  the 
service  of  the  bishop  of  that  city. 

Finding  him  unresponsive  to  their  questionings  and 
indifferent  to  their  advances,  the  gentlemen  to  whom 
he  had  been  introduced  after  a  time  gave  over  the 
attempt  to  show  him  the  civilities  which  he  rejected 
on  the  plea  that  he  had  weighty  business  on  hand. 

"Do  not  fail  to  leave  the  palace  by  way  of  the 
marble  staircase  where  the  false  Jeanne  is  exposed," 
said  one.  "You  will  find  some  entertainment  in  the 
sight ;  and  there  is  a  farce  at  the  Chatelet,  though 
that  is  no  doubt  well-nigh  at  an  end  by  this  time. 
The  farces  of  the  Basoche  are  at  the  most  nothing 
but  seditious  tirades  against  constituted  authorities, 


THE   KEVIEW    OF   THE   BASOCHE.  321 

with  little  wit  to  relieve  their  impertinence.  Would 
I  could  have  heard  the  marshal's  confession !  Four 
hundred  calcined  skeletons,  they  say,  were  found  in 
the  vaults  of  his  castle  at  Suze.  A  bloodthirsty 
monster,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  nobility  of  France." 

The  visitor  to  Paris,  who  had  been  commended  by 
the  bishop  as  "  Our  good  friend,  Sire  Roger  D'Arblay," 
paused  when  he  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
and  seated  himself,  as  if  overcome  by  sudden  weariness, 
upon  its  lo\%est  step.  The  platform  which  served  as 
a  pillory  to  the  pretender  was  directly  in  front  of  him, 
facing  the  entrance  of  the  Rue  de  la  Vielle  Draperie. 
The  victim's  back  was  turned  towards  him,  and  he 
could  watch  her  without  being  himself  observed.  As 
he  took  his  place  upon  the  step,  the  clerk,  who  was 
lounging  near,  straightened  himself  with  a  yawn  and 
began  :  "  Hear  ye,  hear  ye,  the  confession  of  the  lying 
impostor  Claude,  who  has  called  herself  the  Maid  of 
Orleans." 

The  people  in  adjacent  streets  and  byways  ran 
together  at  the  sound. 

"  They  are  preaching  her  again.  Come  and  see  the 
lying  wench.  —  She  is  as  white  as  death,  and  looks  as 
if  she  were  ready  to  fall  from  the  platform.  —  She 
should  feel  the  lash  upon  her  back.  —  My  son  Simon 
was  well-nigh  flogged  to  death  for  offending  one  of 
the  provost's  men  by  the  mere  chance  of  being  under 


322  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

his  horse's  heels,  and  oversetting  him  in  the  gutter. 
Such  is  justice  in  this  world.  —  They  say  she  has  been 
mistress  to  a  priest  high  in  favor  at  court,  and  able 
to  buy  her  safety.  —  When  she  is  let  go,  what  hinders 
us  from  tearing  the  clothes  from  her  back,  and  giving 
her  some  of  the  blows  she  so  richly  deserves  ?  " 

The  man  upon  the  staircase  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  while  a  crimson  flush  rose  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair.  It  was  as  if  he  were  on  a  pillory  before  all 
Paris,  before  the  world,  and  that  an  unimagined  in 
famy  had  fallen  upon  him. 

"  It  is  my  fate  henceforth,"  he  thought.  "  Why 
should  I  try  to  escape  it  longer?" 

He  left  his  seat,  and  paced  restlessly  back  and 
forth,  casting  scrutinizing  glances  at  the  pallid  vic 
tim  of  the  popular  ill-will,  whose  clouded  eyes,  fixed 
on  vacancy,  took  no  notice  of  those  who  came  and 
went  about  her,  and  gave  no  heed  to  the  words  that 
made  him  wince  with  pain. 

He  stood  beside  the  platform,  still  draped  with  the 
blue  and  gold  tapestries  upon  which  appeared  the 
arms  of  the  Basoche. 

"This  is  part  of  the  show  of  the  day,"  said  a 
student  passing  near  him.  "  The  Basochiens  are  pre 
paring  to  adopt  a  queen.  Who  could  be  more  worthy 
a  consort  for  his  royal  Highness  than  she  who  has 
been  so  distinguished  as  to  pass  for  four  years  as 


THE    REVIEW    OF   THE   BASOCHE.  323 

Jeanne  Dare  ?  At  six  of  the  clock,  a  rendezvous  will 
be  called  here  to  offer  the  fair  impostor  a  royal 
crown.  She  is  no  greater  a  deceiver  than  many  who 
have  worn  the  diadem.  Why  should  all  Paris  stand 
agape  as  if  the  distinction  of  being  a  liar  were  wholly 
unique  in  our  most  Christian  city  ?  She  is  a  fair 
wench,  with  a  winsome  eye,  and  needs  only  a  more 
cheerful  occasion  to  prove  herself  a  merry  one. 
Would  I  were  king  of  the  Basoche." 

Robert's  fingers  closed  convulsively  over  the  hilt 
of  his  sword.  "  Degraded,  lost ;  why  should  I  inter 
fere  to  save  her?"  he  queried;  but  he  said  this  in 
grim  criticism  of  the  resolve  that  had  brought  him 
there,  and  not  with  any  vacillating  purpose. 

Another  hour  dragged  by.  Robert  noticed  that 
the  knees  of  the  pretender  trembled  with  weakness 
and  fatigue.  Her  face  was  deadly  pale,  and  dark 
circles  showed  about  her  eyes.  A  softer  emotion 
moved  him. 

"  What  am  I  that  I  should  hold  myself  above 
her?"  he  thought.  "Am  I  better,  purer,  less  an 
apostate  to  my  highest  self  ?  In  the  mind  of  the  Cre 
ator  there  exists  a  definite  ideal  of  each  one  of  the 
creatures  of  his  hands.  On  the  sixth  day,  testing 
his  work,  he  found  that  all  was  good  ;  but  man  has 
marred  the  plan,  and  of  the  image  of  God  in  which 
he  was  designed  he  shows  only  a  blurred  and  dis- 


324  THE   SHIELD    OF    THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

torted  reflection  in  the  darkened  mirror  of  his  soul. 
We  are  no  nearer  our  true  selves  than  the  unmasked 
pretender  is  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans." 

At  this  name  he  bowed  his  head,  and  pressed  his 
lips  to  a  silver  medal  that  hung  by  a  chain  about 
his  neck.  "  Farewell,  Jeanne,  type  of  an  angelic 
purity,"  he  said  in  thought.  "  You  have  saved  me 
from  degradation  and  despair.  You  have  been  at 
my  side'  in  moments  of  weakness,  and  near  me  in 
times  of  spiritual  exaltation,  when  kneeling  by  night 
beside  some  holy  shrine  I  have  fancied  myself  gifted 
like  Galahad  with  the  power  to  receive  angelic  visi 
tations.  I  must  renounce  my  fealty  to  you,  and 
descend  from  the  serene  elevation  where  you  dwell, 
to  take  my  place  once  more  in  the  mire  and  blood 
of  this  earthly  life,  where  all  are  sinners,  struggling 
and  oppressed,  stretching  out  polluted  hands  to  the 
far-away  saints,  to  the  Mother  of  Sorrows,  to  the 
crucified  Christ,  for  succor,  that  Heaven  sends  most 
often  only  through  the  gift  of  some  brother  sin 
ner.  Can  this  be  the  lesson  of  our  life  ?  Who 
knows  ?  " 

The  chimes  struck  the  hour  of  five,  and  the  choir 
in  the  Holy  Chapel  began  the  vesper  service.  The 
chants  sounded  sweetly  over  the  confusion  and  hub 
bub  of  the  streets ;  and  Claude,  listening,  was  moved 
to  tears.  Through  the  chanting  voices  she  seemed 


THE  REVIEW   OF  THE  BASOCHE.  325 

to  hear  the  words  which  Father  Ambrose  had  ad 
dressed  to  her,  when  Avith  convulsive  sobs  she  had 
said  farewell  to  him  at  Loches. 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  daughter,  that  man  can  do  to 
you.  At  the  time  of  your  penance  I  will  be  with 
you,  though  unseen.  The  church  is  more  powerful 
than  king  or  state.  She  welcomes  the  broken-hearted 
penitent  with  open  arms.  I  will  lead  you  to  her 
embrace.  When  the  hopes  of  earth  fade  upon  you, 
the  convent  opens  to  receive  you." 

Secure  in  the  friar's  promise,  she  looked  forward 
without  dread  to  the  hour  of  her  release,  which  would 
be  also  the  hour  when  the  protection  of  the  law  would 
be  withdrawn  from  her  ;  and  the  threatening  mob, 
hitherto  kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  would  be  free 
to  work  its  threats  upon  her  who  had  all  day  suffered 
its  execration. 

Six  o'clock,  sounded  from  the  many  belfries  of  the 
Cite,  was  the  signal  for  the  weary  sentinel  to  turn 
with  an  insulting  phrase  to  his  prisoner  while  assist 
ing  her  trembling  steps  to  descend  upon  the  pave 
ment,  where  a  crowd  immediately  closed  about  her. 
"  Room  for  the  Basoche !  "  cried  a  dozen  voices.  Drums 
and  horns  gave  emphasis  to  the  command,  while  the 
mounted  captains  cleared  the  square  by  successive 
charges  upon  the  rabble.  Shouts,  oaths,  screams,  and 
laughter  filled  the  air;  while  the  king,  dismounting, 


326  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

flung  the  bridle  of  his  horse  to  a  squire,  and  hastily 
advancing,  placed  an  arm  about  Claude's  shrinking 
form. 

"Fair  damsel,  I  claim  you  as  my  bride,"  he  said, 
"and  offer  you  the  half  of  my  kingdom,  which  is 
the  whole  of  France." 

"  Give  place,  impious  youth,"  cried  the  voice  of  a 
priest  at  his  side.  "  This  penitent  is  the  bride  of  the 
church.  The  convent  of  the  Carmelite  nuns  is  to 
receive  her  to-day  as  an  inmate." 

Des  Armoises,  who  had  instinctively  drawn  his 
sword,  at  these  words  returned  it  to  the  scabbard, 
but  not  before  Claude's  kindling  eyes  had  caught 
sight  of  his  figure  in  its  attitude  of  armed  de 
fense. 

"  Robert !  "  she  cried,  holding  out  entreating  arms, 
whose  appeal  he  did  not  resist.  He  took  her  hand, 
and  drew  her  towards  him. 

"  This  is  my  wife,"  he  said,  looking  about  him  un 
flinchingly.  "  She  may  choose  between  me  and  the 
convent." 

The  clerks  of  the  Basoche  began  a  running  fire  of 
jesting  comment,  which  fell  upon  all  impartially,  like 
the  brilliant  but  evanescent  sparks  of  sputtering  fire 
works,  and  with  most  effect  upon  their  dejected  mon 
arch,  who  retreated  in  confusion,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  gave  the  order  for  the  dispersal  of  his  subjects 


THE   BEVIEW    OF   THE   BASOCHE.  327 

for  another  four  months'  interval  of  serious  labors 
in  the  offices  of  the  jurists  and  counsellors  of 
France. 

The  Review  of  the  Basoche  was  over. 

Claude  held  her  husband's  hand,  and  looked  into 
his  face.  She  did  not  hear  the  impassioned  appeals 
which  Ambrose  poured  into  her  ears;  she  did  not 
see  the  gesture  of  despair  with  which  he  turned  and 
departed  in  confusion  and  bitterness  of  spirit.  This 
was  the  moment  when  the  lightning  stroke  of  a  con 
suming  jealousy  revealed  to  him  the  gulf  beneath  his 
feet.  He  fled ;  expatriated  himself  ;  and  died  not  long 
after  in  Siena. 

"  Come,"  said  Robert  solemnly,  with  the  full  con 
sciousness  of  the  burden  to  which  he  had  willingly 
bowed  his  shoulders,  but  with  a  certain  gladness  in 
the  renunciation  which  consecrated  it  with  the  possi 
bilities  of  hope. 

Claude  obeyed,  as  she  would  have  obeyed  if  lie 
had  beckoned  her  to  instant  death.  Reverence,  awe, 
a  passionate  tenderness,  a  gratitude  too  deep  for  words, 
filled  her  heart  as  she  walked  beside  him,  feeling  the 
warm  contact  of  his  hand  to  be  a  living  pledge  of 
forgiveness  and  of  blessing. 

Thus  with  the  chastened  minds  of  those  who  turn 


328  THE  SHIELD  OF  THE  FLEUB-DE-LIS. 

their  backs  upon  that  Paradise  whose  doors  are  for 
ever  guarded  by  the  flaming  sword,  to  seek  a  beckon 
ing  hope  that  lies  beyond  the  stubborn  thistle-bearing 
fields  of  earth,  they  went  forth,  hand  in  hand,  through 
the  deepening  shadows. 


REHABILITATION.  329 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

REHABILITATION. 

ETTER  from  Jean  de  Metz,  knight,1  to  his 
sister,  Frau  Eudeline  Van  Houten,  at 
the  Hague. 

Written  in  Rouen,  the  seventh  day 
of  July,  1456. 

"  To  my  very  dear  sister  :  — 

If  you  could  leave  the  circle  of  your  fireside  and  the  beloved 
company  of  your  husband  and  children  to  look  in  upon  your 
lonely  brother  to-night,  you  would  see  in  him  a  man  whose 
one  earthly  ambition  is  satisfied,  or  as  nearly  so  as  ever  falls 
out  in  this  world  of  disappointment.  The  trial  for  the  rehabili 
tation  of  Jeanne  Dare,  which  opened  the  first  of  June  in  Rouen, 
has  resulted  in  a  decree  pronounced  this  seventh  day  of  July, 
whereby  the  sentepce  of  the  first  trial  is  declared  null  and  void, 
calumnious  and  iniquitous  and  of  no  effect. 

Thus  is  our  holy  martyr  relieved  of  the  stain  so  long  affixed 
to  her  glorious  name.  Has  this  been  effected  out  of  a  just  zeal 
for  the  service  of  God  and  the  cause  of  truth  ?  Alas,  that  I  must 
answer  No.  Policy  has  dictated  the  royal  course,  and  policy  has 
shaped  the  actions  of  the  Papal  Court ;  though  to  you,  who  choose 
.to  call  yourself  a  Protestant,  I  must  say  as  little  as  possible  on 
that  score. 

1  Jean  de  Metz  was  knighted  in  the  year  1440. 


330  THE   SHIELD   OF   THE   FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

Suffice  it  to  note  that  the  testimony  of  the  hundreds  of  wit 
nesses  who  rejoiced  to  raise  their  voices  in  her  favor  has  been 
garbled  and  distorted,  and  made  to  reveal  the  truth  only  in  part. 
Many  notable  personages  whose  names  have  been  cited  as  wit 
nesses  have  not  been  asked  to  give  their  depositions  ;  while  those 
of  others  are  so  disposed  as  to  omit  any  facts  which  might  prove 
unwelcome  to  the  judges.  The  events  of  the  close  of  1429  and 
those  of  1430  are  passed  over  in  silence. 

The  book  of  Poitiers  was  not  produced,  nor  would  it  have  been, 
even  if  it  were  not,  as  is  probably  the  case,  long  since  destroyed 
by  those  envious  of  Jeanne's  fame.  This  is  the  register  in  which 
were  preserved  all  the  promises  which  Jeanne  made  before  under 
taking  her  mission,  some  of  which  have  been  fulfilled,  while  some 
failed  of  fulfilment  through  the  fault  of  the  king  and  his  ad 
visers. 

In  future  years,  those  who  have  not  known  Jeanne  will  be 
grossly  deceived  as  to  the  scope  and  purpose  of  her  mission,  if 
they  rely  upon  the  evidence  of  this  trial. 

I  rejoice  that  justice  has  been  done,  in  part  at  least,  to  her 
memory ;  and  I  look  forward  with  certain  hope  to  a  day,  which 
I  shall  not  live  to  see,  when  the  church  shall  number  among  her 
most  glorious  saints  the  immortal  Maid  of  Orleans." 


APPENDIX. 


A  RESUME  OF  THE  HISTORICAL  EVIDENCE  CONCERNING 
THE  FALSE  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

HISTORY  in  certain  phases  presents  a  series  of  almost 
insoluble  problems,  in  whose  consideration  the  imagination 
must  be  allowed  equal  authority  with  the  critical  faculties 
of  the  mind,  whose  action  is  limited  by  the  absence  of 
proper  logical  sequence  in  the  facts  recorded. 

Who  was  the  false  Jeanne  d'Arc  ?  She  is  a  personage 
concerning  whose  history  we  have  to  a  certain  extent 
definite  and  precise  information,  but  in  regard  to  whose 
actual  being  and  character  we  are  left  very  much  in  the 
dark. 

Herewith  is  given  a  resume  of  the  main  points  in  the 
case,  to  connect  which  with  any  semblance  of  coherence, 
a  fanciful  theory  must  be  accepted,  based  on  a  chosen 
hypothesis ;  for  in  this  instance,  as  in  many  others,  time 
has  destroyed  the  edifice,  and  left  us  only  a  view  of  the 
scaffolding  that  served  for  its  construction ;  or,  to  use 
another  simile,  has  given  us  a  few  fossil  bones  from 
which  the  skeleton  of  the  extinct  animal  must  be  recon 
structed,  clothed  with  flesh,  and  endowed  with  the  breath 
of  a  long-departed  life,  in  an  environment  foreign  to  our 

331 


332  APPENDIX. 

experience.  What  wonder  if  the  result  should  be  only  a 
scientific  paradox  ?  The  savant  has  faith  in  his  ptero 
dactyls,  and  the  historian  too  often  blindly  accepts  the 
prejudiced  conclusions  of  those  who  have  preceded  him. 

In  the  year  1436,  five  years  after  the  death  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc  at  Kouen,  a  rumor  spread  through  Lorraine  and 
Champagne,  and  further  among  the  cities  of  the  Loire, 
that  the  Maid  was  still  alive ;  another  had  been  burned 
in  her  stead  at  Rouen ;  she  had  appeared  in  Metz,  and 
had  been  recognized  by  her  brothers. 

Two  different  manuscripts  preserve  for  us  the  record  of 
these  circumstances,  made  by  the  Dean  of  St.  Thibaud  in 
his  Chronicle  of  Metz,  the  first  of  which  may  be  thus  lit 
erally  translated :  — 

"  In  the  year  1436  Sire  Phelepin  Marcoulz  was  sheriff  of  Metz. 
This  year,  the  20th  day  of  May,  came  the  Maid  Jeanne  who  had 
been  in  France,  to  Grange-aux-Hormes,  near  to  St.  Privay,  and 
there  was  brought  to  talk  to  some  of  the  lords  of  Metz  ;  and  she 
called  herself  Claude.  And  the  same  day  there  saw  her  there  her 
two  brothers,  one  of  whom  was  a  knight  and  called  Pierre,  and  the 
other  Petit-Jean,  a  squire  ;  and  they  thought  she  had  been  burned, 
and  as  soon  as  they  saw  her  they  knew  her,  and  she  did  them.  And 
Monday  the  21st  day  of  said  month,  they  took  their  sister  with  them 
to  Bacquilon  ;  and  there  the  Sire  Nicole  Lowe,  knight,  gave  her  a 
horse  worth  thirty  francs  and  a  pair  of  leggings  ;  and  lord  Aubert 
Boulay,  a  cap,  and  Sire  Nicole  Groignat,  a  sword.  And  the  said  Maid 
rode  her  horse  very  skilfully,  and  said  several  things  to  Sire  Nicole 
Lowe  by  which  he  understood  that  it  was  she  who  had  been  in 
France  ;  and  she  was  recognized  by  many  signs  as  the  Pucelle 
Jeanne  of  France,  who  brought  the  King  Charles  to  be  crowned 
at  Reims.  And  many  would  say  that  she  had  been  burned  at 
Rouen,  and  she  spoke  the  most  of  her  words  by  parables,  and  told 


APPENDIX.  333 

nothing  of  her  intention,  and  said  that  she  had  no  power  before 
John  the  Baptist's  Day. 

"  But  when  her  brothers  had  met  her,  she  returned  at  the  feast  of 
Pentecost  into  the  city  of  Mareville,  at  the  house  of  Jehan  Quenast, 
and  was  there  about  three  weeks  ;  and  then  set  out  to  go  to  our 
Lady  of  Liance  on  the  third.  And  when  she  wished  to  go  away, 
many  from  Metz  went  to  see  her  at  the  said  Mareville,  and  there 
they  recognized  that  it  was  really  Jeanne  the  Maid  of  France.  And 
then  Jeoffroy  Dex  gave  her  a  horse.  And  then  she  went  to  Arelont, 
a  city  that  is  in  the  duchy  of  Luxembourg. 

"  Item  :  When  she  was  at  Arelont  she  was  always  at  the  side  of 
Madame  de  Luxembourg.  (Note  by  the  editor  of  the  manuscript : 
Not  the  one  mentioned  in  the  first  trial,  but  the  effective  and  heredi 
tary  mistress  of  the  duchy,  Elizabeth  de  Goerlitz,  niece  by  alliance 
of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy. ) 

"And  there  was  a  great  throng,  until  the  Count  of  Warnonbourg 
took  her  to  Cologne.  And  the  said  count  loved  her  much,  and  when 
she  wished  to  go,  he  had  made  for  her  a  beautiful  cuirass  to  arm  her. 
And  then  she  came  to  the  said  Arelon,  and  there  was  made  the 
marriage  of  Messire  Robert  des  Hermoises,  knight,  and  the  said 
Jehanne  the  Pucelle.  And  then  afterwards  came  the  said  Siour 
des  Hermoises  to  live  in  Metz,  in  the  house  of  the  said  Sire  Robert, 
which  was  before  Saincte-Segoleine  ;  and  there  they  stayed  while  it 
pleased  them." 

The  tone  of  the  second  copy  of  the  manuscript  is  notice 
ably  different,  it  being  evidently  written  at  a  later  date, 
after  the  exposure  of  the  imposture.  The  spelling  is,  of 
course,  unique,  as  in  the  matter  of  proper  names  each 
scribe  of  that  period  was  a  law  unto  himself. 

"  Messire  Philip  Marcouls,  in  the  year  1436.  In  this  year  came 
a  young  girl  who  said  she  was  the  Maid  of  France,  and  played  the 
part  so  well  that  many  were  deceived,  and  especially  those  of  high 
rank,  And  she  was  at  La  Grange  a  1'Horae,  And  there  were  the 


334  APPENDIX. 

lords  of  Metz,  such  as  the  lord  Nicole  Lowe,  who  gave  her  a  horse 
of  the  price  of  thirty  francs,  and  the  lord  Albert  Boullay  a  cap, 
and  the  lord  Nicole  Grognot  a  sword.  And  she  was  dressed  like  a 
man,  and  two  of  her  brothers  accompanied  her  ;  and  soon  after  the 
feast  of  Pentecost  she  returned  into  the  city  of  Mairville,  and  was 
there  about  three  weeks  at  the  house  of  a  goodman  called  Jean 
Cugnot  ;  and  several  people  of  Metz  went  there,  and  gave  her  many 
jewels,  and  the  Lord  Jeoffroy  Dex  gave  her  a  horse.  And  she 
departed  and  went  to  our  Lady  of  Liance,  and  afterwards  to  Arlon, 
and  was  always  with  Madame  de  Luxembourg  ;  and  there  she  was 
married  to  the  Lord  Robert  des  Armoises.  and  came  to  live  in  Metz 
on  the  hill  of  the  Muzele  gate." 

Still  later  this  same  account  is  given  in  another  form 
by  Philip  Vigneule,  a  historian  of  Metz  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  As  is  natural,  he  characterizes  the  affair  even 
more  decidedly  as  an  imposture. 

"  In  the  same  year,  1436,  came  a  novelty  of  one  who  tried  to 
counterfeit  another  ;  for  at  this  time,  May  22,  a  girl  named  Claude, 
being  in  woman's  clothes,  was  shown  as  being  Jeanne  the  Maid," 
etc.,  and  he  concludes,  "  But  since,  the  truth  has  been  known." 

Who  was  this  pretender  that  so  closely  resembled  Jeanne 
d'Arc  as  to  deceive  her  brothers  ?  What  was  the  charm 
by  which  she  gained  the  admiration  of  the  nobles  of  Metz, 
the  intimate  friendship  of  the  Duchess  of  Luxembourg,  the 
love  of  Count  Ulric  of  Wiirtemberg,  and  the  hand  of  a 
wealthy  nobleman  of  ancient  lineage  ? 

Why  did  she  linger  three  weeks  at  Marville  at  the 
beginning  of  her  career  ?  This  name  recurs,  curiously 
enough,  in  a  document  important  in  this  connection,  the 
contract  of  sale  of  one-fourth  the  estate  of  Haraucourt, 


APPENDIX.  335 

by  Kobert  Des  Armoises  and  Jeanne  du  Lis,  called  the 
Pucelle,  his  wife,  which  can  be  thus  literally  rendered :  — 

"We,  Robert  des  Harmoises,  knight,  lord  of  Thichiemont,  and 
Jeanne  du  Lys,  the  Pucelle  of  France,  lady  of  the  said  Thichiemont, 
my  wife,  licensed  and  authorized  by  me,  Robert  above  named,  to 
agree  and  accord  in  all  that  follows,  make  known  to  all  to  whom 
these  presents  may  come,  that  we  conjointly  together  and  with  a 
common  consent,  and  each  of  us  by  himself  and  for  both,  have  sold, 
ceded,  and  transported  to  the  honorable  person  Collard  de  Failly, 
squire,  living  at  Marville,  and  to  Poinsette,  his  wife,  the  fourth  part 
that  we  have  and  may  have  ...  in  all  the  town,  limits,  and  con 
fines  of  Haraucourt,  etc. 

"Witnessed  by  our  great  and  good  friend,  Jean  de  Thoneletil, 
lord  of  Villette,  and  Saubelet  de  Dun,  provost  of  Marville,  who 
witness  that  it  was  made  and  done  in  the  year  of  grace  1436,  in 
November,  7th  day." 

Six  months  after  her  first  appearance  at  Marville,  there 
fore,  "  the  girl  Claude "  was  again  in  that  place  as  the 
Lady  Jeanne  Des  Armoises.  Meantime  she  had  visited 
the  Duchess  of  Luxembourg  at  Arlon,  and  had  gone  from 
there  to  Cologne  in  the  company  of  Count  Ulric  of  Wiir- 
temberg.  Concerning  the  events  that  occurred  at  Cologne, 
we  have  the  testimony  of  a  writer  who  is  not  of  a  char 
acter  to  be  accepted  as  a  safe  or  unbiased  authority.  This 
is  Johann  Nider,  a  German  ecclesiastic  and  member  of 
the  Inquisition,  who  died  in  1438  or  1440.  That  he  was 
a  man  of  intense  prejudices,  and  willing  to  go  to  a  great 
length  in  the  path  marked  out  by  a  bigoted  religious  zeal, 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  he  asked  and  obtained  permis 
sion  from  the  Council  of  Bale  to  attempt  the  conversion  of 
the  Hussites ;  and  when  these  independent  thinkers  proved 


336  APPENDIX. 

unamenable  to  his  persuasions,  he  declared  a  crusade 
against  them,  and  thousands  perished  in  the  war  in  the 
defense  of  their  belief.  Such  a  man  was  not  likely  to 
regard  impartially  the  character  of  one  who  had  incurred 
the  suspicion  of  the  Holy  Office ;  and  it  happened  that  the 
false  Jeanne  during  her  stay  in  Cologne  had  excited  the 
wrath  of  the  Inquisition,  by  undertaking  to  perform  mir 
acles,  probably  to  support  her  credit  as  the  Maid  of  Orleans, 
whom  the  common  people  had  believed  to  be  gifted  with 
miraculous  power. 

Nider  tells  us  that  she  restored  a  torn  napkin  and  a 
broken  glass  whole  as  at  first  before  the  eyes  of  all  the 
people,  and  escaped  arrest  by  the  Inquisition  only  by  flee 
ing  from  Cologne  with  the  aid  of  the  Count  of  Wiirtemberg. 
He  further  relates  that  she  married  a  knight,  and  left  him 
to  live  as  the  paramour  of  a  priest  in  Metz.  Since  this 
accords  with  no  other  record,  we  must  believe  that  Nider's 
view  of  the  subsequent  history  of  one  whom  he  regarded 
as  an  excommunicated  sorceress  and  enemy  of  the  church 
was  colored  by  the  rancor  natural  to  the  man  and  the 
Inquisitor. 

Another  writer,  whose  opinions  are  apparently  based 
upon  the  testimony  of  Nider's  Formicarium,  is  Antoine 
Dufaur,  provincial  of  the  Dominicans  of  France,  and  con 
fessor  of  Louis  XII.  and  Anne  of  Brittany,  at  whose  re 
quest  he  composed  the  Book  of  Celebrated  Women.  He 
was  a  native  of  Orleans,  and  pronounced  the  sermon  of  the 
8th  of  May,  1501.  He  should  have  been  well  informed ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  his  notice  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  swarms 
with  errors  to  such  an  extent  that  no  well-informed  histo- 


APPENDIX.  337 

rian  thinks  of  quoting  him.  His  notice  of  the  false 
Jeanne  may  also  be  ruled  out  on  the  ground  of  his  general 
unreliability.  He  says  :  — 

"There  has  been  since,  one  falsely  called  the  Pucelle  of  Mans, 
hypocrite,  idolater,  sorceress,  magician,  dissolute,  enchantress,  who, 
according  to  her  miserable  estate,  tried  to  do  as  much  harm  as 
Jeanne  the  Pucelle  had  done  good.  After  her  chimerical,  fictitious, 
and  false  devotion  she  was  abandoned  of  God  and  men,  an  arch- 
wanton  of  whom,  for  the  honor  of  the  good  and  virtuous,  one  does 
not  wish  long  to  write." 

The  fine  talent  for  invective  displayed  by  men  of  the 
church  was  called  out  by  any  one  unfortunate  enough  to 
incur  their  animosity,  with  little  concern  for  the  applica 
bility  of  the  epithets  so  lavishly  bestowed,  as  is  instanced 
by  the  fact  that  when  Jeanne  d'Arc  was  led  to  execution 
she  wore  on  her  head  a  mitre  with  the  inscription ;  "  Re 
lapsed  heretic,  apostate,  idolater,"  and  on  a  tablet  before 
the  scaffold  appeared  these  words  :  "  Jeanne,  who  caused 
herself  to  be  called  the  Maid,  liar,  pernicious,  deceiver  of 
the  people,  diviner,  superstitious,  blasphemer  of  God,  pre 
sumptuous,  denier  of  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  boaster, 
idolater,  cruel,  dissolute,  invoker  of  devils,  schismatic,  and 
heretic." 

A  reaction  of  indignation  and  disappointment  was  inevi 
table  in  Orleans  when  it  was  discovered  that  the  Pucelle, 
then  the  Lady  Jeanne  Des  Armoises,  who  had  been  received 
in  1439  with  lavish  gifts,  splendid  pageants,  and  costly 
festivities,  was  only  a  pretender  foisted  upon  their  cre 
dulity.  The  records  of  these  events  will  be  later  referred 
to. 


338  APPENDIX. 

There  remains  to  be  considered  the  testimony  of  the 
so-called  bourgeois  of  Paris,  who  it  is  now  conceded  was 
no  bourgeois,  but  a  learned  member  of  the  University. 
When  the  shameful  course  of  the  University  in  regard  to 
Jeanne  d'Arc  is  recalled,  and  it  is  observed  that  the 
Journal  of  the  Bourgeois  of  Paris  gives,  as  if  in  sympathy 
with  it,  an  analysis  of  the  sermon  preached  by  the  Inquis 
itor-General  containing  the  most  impudent  fictions  con 
cerning  the  last  moments  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  and  also  the 
analysis  of  the  sermon  which  the  detestable  Nicole  Midi 
preached  on  the  occasion  of  Jeanne's  martyrdom,  it  will 
be  evident  that  the  author  of  the  Journal  was  prejudiced 
in  advance  against  any  one  recalling  the  name  of  the  Maid 
of  Orleans.  It  is  therefore  worthy  of  note  that  he  does 
not  repeat  the  scandalous  charges  made  by  Johann  Nider. 
Although  he  had  seen  the  false  Jeanne  as  an  exposed  im 
postor  "  preached  "  before  the  people,  he  gives  only  a  con 
fused  story  of  a  penance  that  she  had  done  at  Rome  for 
some  act  of  ill  temper,  as  to  the  occasion  of  which  he  loses 
himself  in  conjectures.  He  says :  — 

"At  this  time  there  was  very  great  news  of  the  Pucelle  who  was 
burned  at  Rouen,  and  there  were  many  persons  who  were  much 
deceived  by  her,  and  firmly  believed  that  by  her  holiness  she  had 
escaped  from  the  fire,  and  that  they  had  burned  another  in  her 
stead.  But  she  was  really  burnt,  and  her  ashes  were  thrown  into 
the  river. 

"  At  this  time  men  of  arms  brought  one  who  had  been  very  honor 
ably  received  at  Orleans;  and  when  she  was  near  Paris  the  great 
error  recommenced  of  believing  firmly  that  she  was  the  Maid,  and 
for  this  cause  the  University  and  Parliament  made  her  come  to 
Paris,  willing  or  unwilling,  and  she  was  shown  to  the  people  in  the 


APPENDIX.  339 

Palace  on  the  marble  stone  of  the  great  court ;  and  she  was  preached 
and  all  her  life  and  all  her  estate,  and  said  that  she  was  not  a  Maid, 
and  that  she  had  married  a  knight  by  whom  she  had  two  sons  ;  and 
that  she  had  done  something  for  which  she  had  to  go  to  the  Pope, 
like  laying  hands  on  father  or  mother,  priest  or  clerk,  violently,  and 
that  in  order  to  guard  her  honor,  for  she  said  she  struck  her  mother 
by  chance,  thinking  she  was  another,  and  that  she  might  have 
killed  her  mother,  so  great  was  the  temper  she  was  in,  for  her 
mother  held  her  when  she  wished  to  strike  one  of  her  female 
friends,  and  for  this  cause  it  suited  her  to  go  to  Rome,  and  she 
went  there  dressed  as  a  man,  and  was  soldier  in  the  war  for  the 
Holy  Father  Eugene,  and  committed  homicide  twice,  and  when  she 
was  at  Paris  she  (had  already)  returned  to  the  war  and  was  in  garri 
son;  and  then  she  went  away." 

This  testimony  of  a  resident  of  Paris  at  the  time  of  the 
public  penance  of  the  impostor  would  naturally  include 
every  scandalous  detail  of  the  exposition  made  of  "  all  her 
life  and  all  her  estate,"  and  that  he  refers  only  to  her  mar 
riage  is  a  negative  proof  of  great  value  in  discountenan 
cing  the  charges  made  from  hearsay  by  the  Dominican  of 
Cologne. 

So  light  a  punishment  inflicted  upon  a  deceiver  who  for 
four  years  had  occupied  the  attention  of  all  France,  who 
had  been  welcomed  at  Orleans,  feted  by  the  nobility,  and 
finally  received  by  the  king  at  court,  is  singularly  in  con 
trast  to  the  habit  of  that  blood-stained  age,  when  Pier- 
ronne  la  Bretonne,  a  companion  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  in  the 
war,  was  burned  alive  in  Paris  for  no  other  fault  than  her 
expressed  opinion  that  the  Maid  of  Orleans  was  inspired 
by  God. 

How  did  it  chance  that  after  the  false  Jeanne's  exposure 


340  APPENDIX. 

upon  an  improvised  pillory,  some  say  the  great  marble 
table  in  the  hall  of  the  Palace  of  Justice,  she  was  al 
lowed  to  go  free,  unchallenged  and  unharmed  ? 

There  is  no  doubt  that  a  powerful  influence  had  devised 
and  maintained  the  imposture.  Gilles  de  Laval,  the  Mar 
shal  de  Retz,  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  noblemen 
of  his  time,  and  high  in  favor  with  the  king,  who  had  made 
him  marshal  of  France  at  the  time  of  the  consecration  at 
Reims.  On  that  occasion  he  had  been  one  of  the  four 
knights  deputed  to  bring  the  sacred  vial  of  holy  oil  from 
the  abbey  of  St.  Remi.  He  had  been  the  companion  of 
Jeanne  d'Arc  in  the  war,  and  was  one  of  her  train  when 
she  had  first  entered  Orleans.  After  the  false  Jeanne's 
return  from  Rome,  she  was  in  the  war,  and  in  garrison 
with  the  soldiers  of  the  marshal,  which  is  probably  the 
time  referred  to  in  the  somewhat  confused  statement  of 
the  author  of  the  Journal. 

In  1441  the  following  testimony  was  given  by  a  former 
lieutenant  of  the  marshal,  arrested  by  Louis  the  dauphin 
for  pillaging  the  country. 

He  says  that  "  about  two  years  ago,  the  late  Sire  de 
Retz,  under  whom  he  served,  said  to  him  that  he  was  to  go 
to  Mans  and  take  charge  and  government  of  the  men  of 
war  who  had  with  them  one  called  Jeanne  the  Pucelle  ; 
promising  that  if  he  took  Mans  he  should  be  captain  of  it." 
After  hearing  this,  the  king  pardoned  him  for  his  pillaging, 
"  in  consideration  of  his  services." 

In  1439  the  false  Jeanne  was  in  Orleans,  after  having 
delayed  three  years  to  appear  in  the  city  so  intimately 
associated  with  the  fame  of  her  prototype.  In  the  ac- 


APPENDIX.  341 

counts  of  the  city  of  Orleans  for  the  year  1436,  the  date 
of  the  pretender's  appearance,  the  following  records  may 
be  seen:  — 

9th  day  of  August,  1436,  letters  carried  from  Jeanne  the  Pucelle, 
to  messenger  (so  much). 

To  Jean  du  Lis,  brother  of  Jeanne  the  Pucelle,  Tuesday,  Aug. 
21st,  1436,  12  livres  tournois,  because  he  came  to  the  Chamber  and 
asked  the  procureurs  to  give  him  money  to  return  to  his  sister. 
The  King  had  ordered  a  hundred  francs  to  be  given  to  him  ;  they 
only  gave  him  20  ;  he  had  spent  12,  and  had  only  8  left,  which  was 
little  to  return  with,  seeing  he  was  (five  days)  on  horseback. 

Aug.  25,  to  a  messenger  who  brought  letters  from  Jeanne  the 
Pucelle  (so  much). 

Oct.  28,  1436.  To  Cceur-de-lis  (a  herald)  for  a  journey  that  he 
made  for  the  city  of  Orleans  to  the  Maid  who  was  at  Arlon  in  the 
duchy  of  Luxembourg,  and  to  carry  a  letter  which  he  brought  from 
Jehanne  the  Pucelle  to  the  King  at  Loches  ;  in  which  journey  he 
took  41  days,  that  is  to  say  34  days  in  journey  for  .the  Pucelle,  and 
seven  days  to  go  to  the  King.  He  set  out  to  go  to  the  Maid  Tuesday 
last  day  of  July,  and  he  returned  the  2nd  day  of  Sept.  following. 

To  Jaquet  Leprestre,  the  2nd  day  of  Sept.  1436,  for  bread,  wine, 
pears  and  nuts  dispensed  in  the  Chamber  of  the  said  city  on  the 
coming  of  the  said  Coeur-de-lis  who  brought  the  said  letters  from 
Jehanne  the  Pucelle,  and  for  giving  drink  to  the  said  Coeur-de-lis, 
who  said  he  was  very  thirsty,  for  this  2  s.  4  d.p. 

In  the  year  1439  the  following  accounts  were  recorded :  — 

July  18,  10  pintes  and  choppines  of  wine  presented  to  Dame 
Jehanne  des  Armoises. 

July  29,  the  same. 

Last  day  of  July,  meat  bought  of  Perrin  Basin  to  present  to 
Madame  Jehanne  des  Armoises. 

Wine  for  dinner  and  supper  same  day  (so  much). 


342  APPENDIX. 

Aug.  1st,  wine  at  dinner  when  she  left  the  city  (so  much). 

To  Jehanne  des  Armoises  for  gift  to  her  made  the  first  of  August 
by  deliberation  made  with  the  City  Council,  and  for  the  good  she 
did  the  city  during  the  siege  ;  for  this  201  l.p. 

It  was  probably  at  this  time  that  the  famous  Mystery 
of  the  Siege  of  Orleans  was  represented  in  this  city  at  the 
expense  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  in  honor  of  the  Maid. 

The  following  extract  is  from  a  Notice  of  Gilles  de  Retz 
by  Armand  Gueraud. 

"  Sometimes  he  was  at  Paris,  sometimes  at  Angers,  sometimes  at 
Orleans.  He  spent  in  this  last  city  in  less  than  a  year  as  much  as 
80,000  or  100,000  crowns.  He  caused  to  be  acted  on  the  public 
square  with  more  magnificence  than  was  displayed  at  the  entrance 
of  Charles  into  Paris,  the  Great  Mysteries  representing  the  Siege  of 
Orleans,  with  actors  without  number.  The  festivities  on  this  occa 
sion  did  not  last  less  than  three  days.  Each  representation  was 
followed  by  public  banquets  and  copious  distributions  of  hippocras." 

In  1440  the  imposture  was  exposed;  and  the  same  year 
the  Marshal  de  Retz  was  brought  to  trial  on  charges  long 
pending,  and  which  he  was  no  longer  able  to  escape.  It  is 
impossible  to  avoid  connecting  the  failure  of  his  scheme 
concerning  the  false  Jeanne  with  his  immediate  disgrace 
and  execution,  brought  about,  apparently,  by  the  withdrawal 
of  the  king's  favor,  which  left  him  at  the  mercy  of  his 
enemies. 

The  false  Jeanne  was  summoned  to  court ;  and  when  she 
was  brought  before  Charles,  who  had  purposely  disguised 
himself,  she  recognized  him  as  the  true  Jeanne  had  done 
on  a  similar  occasion  ;  "  at  which  he  was  in  amaze,  and 
exclaimed,  'Welcome,  Pucelle,  my  friend,  in  the  name  of 


APPENDIX.  343 

God  who  knows  the  secret  that  is  between  you  and  me.' 
Then,  marvellously,  after  hearing  that  one  word,  the  false 
Pucelle  fell  at  the  king's  knees,  crying  for  mercy,  and 
confessing  her  treason,  for  which  some  were  severely 
punished,  as  was  suitable  in  such  a  case."  1 

The  impostor  herself  escaped  with  no  punishment  but 
that  of  open  shame.  The  members  of  Jeanne's  family 
continued  to  be  rewarded  with  gifts  and  offices.  The 
trial  of  the  Marshal  de  Retz,  however,  set  all  France 
aghast  with  horror  and  amazement. 

"  This  Gilles  de  Retz  was  a  very  great  lord,  of  fine  person,  and 
good  manners,  well  educated,  and  speaking  Latin  with  elegance. 
He  defied  his  judges;  but  he  could  not  defy  the  crowd  of  witnesses,  — 
bereaved  parents  who  came  weeping  to  tell  how  their  children  had 
been  carried  away  and  murdered.  His  accomplices  turned  against 
him;  and  finding  it  useless  to  deny,  he  began  his  confession,  at  which 
the  hearers  shuddered  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  A  ton  of 
calcined  skeletons  was  found  in  the  tower  of  Chantoce,  in  the 
castle  of  Suze,  and  other  places  where  he  had  been.  This  beast  of 
extermination  killed  to  obtain  the  favor  of  the  demons,  and  the 
gifts  of  gold,  science,  and  power.  After  a  time  he  killed  for  the 
enjoyment  he  derived  from  it.  He  thought  he  could  gain  at  once 
the  favor  of  God  and  of  the  devil,  and  expected  to  bribe  his  judge 
with  masses  and  processions.  To  the  devil  he  had  never  vowed  his 
soul,  serving  him  with  this  reservation,  and  punctually  fulfilling  the 
duties  of  religion.  He  was  condemned  to  the  stake,  but  was  put  to 
death  before  the  flames  touched  him  ;  and  his  body  was  buried  by 
members  of  his  family,  with  their  own  hands,  in  the  church  of  the 
Carmelites. 

"  The  Marshal  de  Retz  had  pursued  his  horrible  career  for  four 
teen  years  without  any  one  daring  to  accuse  him  ;  and  he  would 

1  Pierre  Sala.    Hardiesses  des  grands  Rois  et  Empereurs. 


344  APPENDIX. 

never  have  been  accused  and  condemned  if  three  powers  usually 
opposed  to  each  other  had  not  consented  to  his  death,  —  the  Bishop 
of  Nantes,  the  Duke,  and  the  King.  The  Duke  was  jealous  of  the 
Lavals  ;  the  bishop  was  a  personal  enemy  of  De  Retz  ;  and  the  King, 
to  whom  he  had  rendered  services,  and  on  whom  he  might  perhaps 
rely,  did  not  wish  any  more  to  defend  the  brigands  who  had  done  so 
much  injury  to  his  cause."  1 

Since  the  brigand  especially  referred  to,  De  Retz's  lieu 
tenant,  was  afterwards  pardoned  by  the  king,  it  is  more 
likely  that  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  Charles's  favor  was 
due  to  the  exposure  of  the  imposture  in  which  the  marshal 
had  had  so  great  a  share.  Although  it  is  evident  that 
Jeanne's  youngest  surviving  brother  gave  his  active  co-op 
eration  to  the  scheme,  it  is  impossible  to  determine  whether 
he  was  a  party  to  the  deception,  or  himself  a  dupe.  The 
other  brother,  Pierre,  a  knight,  does  not  appear  in  connec 
tion  with  the  affair ;  but  twenty  years  later  he  is  associated 
with  his  mother  in  a  petition  to  the  head  of  the  church  for 
the  rehabilitation  of  Jeanne  d'Arc. 

The  name  used  by  the  false  Jeanne,  Claude,  is  repeated 
for  three  succeeding  generations  in  the  descendants  of  this 
same  Petit- Jean,  who  carried  her  letters  from  Arlon  to  the 
king.  It  would  seem  that  he  had  a  kindness  for  her 
memory. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  pretender  may  have  been 
Jeanne's  sister,  Catherine,  of  whom  history  preserves  only 
vague  and  contradictory  records.  This  supposition  fur 
nishes  a  welcome  clue  in  the  consideration  of  the  problem. 
A  sister  of  the  Maid,  if  resembling  her  in  form  and  fea- 

1  Michelet,  abridged  and  translated  freely. 


APPENDIX.  345 

ture,  might  be  able  to  counterfeit  the  true  Pucelle  so  suc 
cessfully  as  to  impose  upon  the  credulity  of  the  people  of 
Orleans,  who  cannot  be  suspected  of  acting  in  concerted 
support  of  a  pretender,  although  it  is  conceivable  that  the 
brothers  of  the  Maid  might  be  induced  to  do  so  from 
motives  of  self-interest. 

The  mother  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  was  a  pensioner  upon  the 
bounty  of  the  city  of  Orleans ;  and  as  noted  in  the  accounts 
of  the  city,  she  was  ill  from  the  7th  day  of  July  to  the 
last  day  of  August,  1440.  Imagination  may  readily  con 
nect  this  illness  with  the  grief  resulting  from  the  pre 
tender's  exposure,  which  occurred  at  this  time. 

As  to  the  further  history  of  the  false  Jeanne,  after  she 
"  went  away "  from  Paris,  history  gives  us  only  a  hint. 
About  1452  it  is  recorded  that  "a  young  woman  played 
tennis  with  the  cure  of  Sermaize.  She  said  to  him,  '  Say 
boldly  that  you  have  played  tennis  with  the  Pucelle.'  At 
which  the  deponent  was  right  joyous." 

It  has  been  rashly  concluded  that  this  must  be  a  second 
pretender,  upon  the  ground  that  a  woman  of  thirty-eight 
or  forty  could  not  come  under  the  above  definition,  and 
would  not  be  likely  to  indulge  in  a  game  of  tennis. 

Allowance  may  be  made  for  the  latitude  of  compliment 
in  the  statement  of  the  gallant  cure;  and  in  these  days  of 
athletics  for  women  the  latter  argument  has  no  weight. 

It  is  less  credible,  however,  that  after  the  false  Jeanne 
had  confessed  the  imposture  with  tears,  and  her  life  and 
estate  had  been  exposed  in  Paris,  she  should  later  on  make 
so  unqualified  a  claim. 

Some  writers,  falling  into  a  grave  confusion  of  dates, 


346  APPENDIX. 

have  fixed  the  time  of  Johann  Nider's  history  long  poste 
rior  to  his  death,  and  have  imagined  that  there  was  a  third 
pretender  as  late  as  1473,  to  whom  some  of  the  statements 
of  the  Formicarium  are  made  to  apply.  This  is  an  example 
of  the  inextricable  confusion  which  results  from  the  per 
petuated  misunderstanding  of  historical  records. 

An  exact  knowledge  of  the  past  is  as  impossible  as  a 
final  conclusion  in  regard  to  any  of  the  mysterious  prob 
lems  of  man's  destiny.  "  Our  little  life  is  rounded  with  a 
sleep ; "  arid  history  is  only  the  remembrance  of  a  faded 
dream. 


COKET 


A  Tale  of  the  Salem  Witchcraft 
By  CONSTANCE   GODDARD   DuBOIS 


This  is  a  graphic  and  powerful  novel.  The  characters  are  drawn 
with  a  touch  at  once  graceful  and  firm,  and  the  very  color  of  the 
times  is  preserved  with  great  care  and  skill.  —  The  Churchman,  New 
York. 

The  story  of  Martha  Corey  is  a  tale  of  the  Salem  witchcraft, 
and  has  for  its  background  the  dark  and  gloomy  pictures  of  that 
shameful  persecution.  The  historical  material  is  used  with  much 
exactitude,  and  the  interest  well  sustained  to  the  end.  The  author 
is  an  able  writer,  and  makes  very  real  the  dark  page  in  Massa 
chusetts  history,  where  stands  recorded  the  cruel  error  which  for  a 
season  destroyed  all  human  kindness  in  the  hearts  of  men,  re 
placing  it  by  vindictive  fear  and  debasing  superstition.—  -Journal  of 
Education,  Boston. 

An  exceedingly  pleasant  tale  of  love  and  life  in  an  antique  set- 
ting.—  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

In  her  very  effective  tale  of  the  Salem  witchcraft,  Miss  Dubois 
depicts  with  fidelity  to  the  facts  of  history,  and  a  fine  dramatic  skill,  the 
horrible  effects  of  New  England  superstition  in  the  closing  years  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

The  action  of  the  story  is  rapid,  and  offers  many  interesting  situ 
ations.  —  Telegraph,  Grand  Rapids. 

A  story  of  marked  strength  both  of  imagination  and  narration.  — 
Home  Journal,  New  York. 

FOR    SALE    BY  ALL    BOOKSELLERS,  OR    WILL   BE   SENT,   POST-PAID,   UPON 
RECEIPT   OF   PRICE    BY 


IVfERRIAM 

1    1     ^^COMPANY 
Publishers  and  Booksellers 


pIPTH 

AVENUE 


NEW  YORK 


BEflTRIZ 


.By  CONSTANCE   QODDARD   DuBOIS 


A  romance  ot  exceptional  charm  and  interest. — Traveller, 
Boston. 

-This  is  one  of  the  few  works  of  historical  fiction  which  really 
commands-  the  admiration  of  the  reader.  The  novel  is  well  written, 
and  the  story  is  peculiarly  fascinating. — Globe,  Chicago. 

Columbus  and  Beatriz  is  a  delicate  and  conscientious  study  of  the 
domestic  life  of  the  great  discoverer. — Critic,  New  York. 

Miss  DuBois  has  a  fascinating  style  of  composition,  and  weaving  the 
great  motive  of  the  life  of  Columbus  into  this  story  gives  a  fresh 
interpretation  of  his  character. — Telegram,  New  York. 

So  pleasing  a  romance  of  Spanish  life  is  rarely  encountered. — 
Public  Ledger,  Philadelphia. 

The  story  recalls  the  past  with  accuracy,  and  reproduces  the 
historical  and  social  atmosphere  of  the  time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
with  a  picturesqueness  that  is  decidedly  effective. — Evening  Gazette, 
Boston. 


FOR    SALE    BY  ALL    BOOKSELLERS,  OR  WILL    BE    SENT,   POST-PAID,  UPON 
RECEIPT   OF    PRICE    BY 


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:  :  JUST  PUBLISHED  :  : 


NAPOLEON,  LOVER  AND  HUSBAND 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  14™  FRENCH  EDITION 
By  J.  M.  Howell 


Five  Photogravure  Plates,  32O  Pages, 

Svo,  Cloth,  Gilt  Top,  $2.OO 

IF  there  is  any  figure  in  the  world's  history  that  the  present  age 
might  suppose  that  it  knew,  Napoleon  Bonaparte  would  be 
taken  as  pre-eminently  the  best  known.     To  say  nothing  of 
his  own  personal  memoirs  and  his  mountain  of  correspondence 
edited  under  his  nephew,  Napoleon  III.,  the  literature  of  the  century 
has  been  made  up  in  a  large  part  of  studies  of  the  Corsican.     And 
yet,  such  is  the  devotion  of  partisanship — the  awe,  it  may  be  said — 
of  great  personality,  that  the  real  Napoleon,  the  man,  the  lover, 
the  husband,  has  been  fairly  left  untouched  until  to-day.     It  might 
even   be  supposed  that  the  world   has  tired  of  hearing  of  him. 
But  a  volume  now  enlisting  absorbing  interest,  not  only  in  France, 
but  in  Europe,  proves  that  the  man,  after  all,  is  the  most  interesting 
study  to  mankind. 

*  *  *  *  Frederic  Masson  has  undertaken  to  reveal  the  lover's 
side,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  Napoleon,  from  the  precocious  youth  to 
the  day  that  he  died  at  St.  Helena.  The  book  is  what  might  be  called 
a  "  revelation,"  for,  though  many  of  the  names  and  episodes  treated 
have  been  vaguely  touched  before,  the  present  author  has  buttressed 
his  statements  by  documents  which  a  court  of  law  would  be  com 
pelled  to  pronounce  unimpeachable.  And,  indeed,  without  doc 
uments,  the  Napoleon  presented  in  Frederic  Masson's  volume, 
"  Napoleon,  Lover  and  Husband,"  would  be  hardly  credible,  for,  if 
there  is  one  saliency  in  Napoleon's  character  that  stands  out  beyond 
others  in  the  recorded  actions  of  his  life,  it  is  his  determined  hostility 
to  feminine  interference  in  affairs  of  state,  or  even  affairs  of  the 
family.  It  was  his  supposed  impassive  indifference  to  the  sex  that 
first  won  him  the  incredulous  interest  of  the  Parisians,  when,  as  the 
head  of  the  Italian  army  at  twenty-five,  he  sternly  put  aside  the 
usual  gallantries  that  follow  "  war's  alarums,"  and  found  time  only 
for  conjugal  letters  to  the  absent  Josephine. 

For  sale  at  all  Bookstores,  or  will  be  mailed  postpaid  upon  receipt  of  price  by 

The  Merriam  Company,  Publishers  and  Booksellers 

Fifth   Avenue,  New  Yorlc 


JHE 

,       rNEW 

WonAN 


BY 


HINTOIN. 


12rno,     Cloth, 


"  A  novel  worth  reading,  especially  at  this  time 
of  discussion  regarding  woman's  place  in  public 
life." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  We  predict  for  this  book  that  it  will  be  talked 
about." — Boston  Times. 

"  There  is  not  a  dull  page  .  .  .  and  the 
moral  lesson  set  forth  is  one  that  every  woman 
should  ponder  over." — Boston  Courier. 

"It  is  a  very  fascinating  story." — New  Orleans 
Picayune. 

"This  book  is  pertinent  to  the  time." — Albany 
Argus. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be 
sent  post-paid  upon  receipt  of  price  by 

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The  Old  Post  Road 

A  DELIGHTFUL  STORY  OF  EARLY  DAYS  IN  MARYLAND. 
BY 

M.  Q.  MCCLELLAND 

AUTHOR   OF 

"BUOADOAKS."   "OBLIVION."  "PRINCESS," 
ETC. 

With  Photogravure  Frontispiece, 

i6mo,  Oblong,  Cloth,  Gilt  Top. 

—  •+•  --  75  CENTS 


PRESS 

"The  reader  will  derive  unalloyed  pleasure,  both 
from  the  tale  and  from  the  delightful  style  in  which  it  is 
told."  —  New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"  This  is  a  romance  containing  plenty  of  incident, 
and  vigorous  in  its  telling.  It  is  a  story  well  calculated 
to  hold  the  interest  of  the  reader."  —  N.  Y.  Sun. 

"Is  another  of  M.  G.  McClelland's  literary  gems." 

—  Baltimore  American. 

"A  story  of  vigor  and  picturesqueness."  —  Town 
Topics. 

"  The  story  is  a  thing  of  beauty."  —  Boston  Ideas. 

"  This  is  a  charming  little  story  and  one  that  will  be 
read  with  pleasure."  —  Savannah.  News. 

"  This  is  a  delightfully  told  story  of  the  old  days." 

—  Boston  Times. 

"  To  begin  it  is  to  read  it."  —  Philadelphia  Call. 

".  .  .  It  leaves  a  pleasant  taste  in  the  mind,  so 
to  speak,  and  is  well  worth  reading."  —  Burlington 
Hawkeye. 


For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  sent  post-paid  upon  receipt 
of  price  by 


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SOME    NEW    BOOKS. 

A  MODERN  PAGAN 

BY 

CONSTANCE  GODDARD  DuBOIS. 


12mo,  Cloth,  $1.50. 


Constance  Goddard  DuBois  has  peculiar  ideas  re 
garding  American  life  and  the  relation  of  men  and 
women  to  political  affairs  and  to  society  at  large. 
These  are  expressed  in  "A  Modern  Pagan,"  and  are 
likely  to  create  considerable  discussion ;  but,  of  course, 
they  are  subordinated  to  the  lively  story  which  runs 
through  the  book. 


TWO  WOMEN,  or. 

OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY 

BY  LIDA  OSTROM  VANAMEE. 


16mo,  Oblong,  Cloth,  Gilt  Top,         -          75  Cents. 

Is  a  pretty  summer  story  describing  the  adventures 
of  a  widow  and  her  intimate  friend,  a  young  girl  who, 
after  a  hard  winter's  work  in  New  York,  decide  to 
take  a  journey  through  England  by  carriage.  They 
have  many  adventures  during  their  long  drive,  and 
meet  many  interesting  personages  and  visit  many  in 
teresting  scenes  which  are  competently  described. 


For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  post-paid 
upon  receipt  of  price  by 

THE  A\ERRIAA\  COMPANY, 

Publishers  and  Booksellers, 

67    FIFTH    AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


AUG  2  6  1982 
DATE  DUE 


PS1555  D23S5X 

Du  Bois,  Constance  Goddard. 
The  shield  of  the  fleur  de 
lisi 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

AA    001  148290    s 


3  1210003772991 


